


Devils' Due (Conclusion of Personalities)

by AvenuePotter



Series: Personalities [4]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Minor Eccomiah, Minor canonical ships, Post Season 4 Finale, Romance, Science Fiction, Tabby/Butch (deceased)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2020-01-15 10:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 32,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18497050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvenuePotter/pseuds/AvenuePotter
Summary: Yes that title IS punctuated correctly . . . because eight devils will finally get what's coming to them as the Personalities series concludes (but don't worry, there will be a short epilogue before its completely over).And just who are those eight devils you ask? Why don't you already know? Read and find out!Buckle up and enjoy the ride as your resident Queen of Tragedy serves everyone their just desserts. Muahahaha!(This fic will post every Thursday)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As with the other stories in this series, I will only warn for graphic depictions of abuse and this story WILL get harsh at times (just not as harsh as Personalities). If you are sensitive, please proceed with caution or skip this fic all together.

"It's okay, Edward," Oswald says as Edward slumps down onto the coffee table in front of the sofa. He places a small hand on his back. "It's okay."

"No," Edward replies. "It is decidedly NOT okay. Not at all. This shouldn't have happened."

"Can you leave us?" Oswald asks William.

"Sure," he answers and motions for two of his men to come over and remove the body from the white wicker sofa.

"Wait. What are you doing?" Edward asks, alarmed.

"She's gone, now, Edward," William says. "I just laid her out so that you could see her before we bury her. So that you would understand."

Edwards eyes narrow. "Understand what?"

William doesn't answer him directly. Instead he says, "I've changed my mind. I'll leave her here until you've had time to say a proper goodbye."

William gives Oswald a look, which is returned with a nod.

"Excellent idea. Thank you," Oswald says.

After William and his men have vacated the pool house, Edward turns to Oswald and demands, "What the hell is going on here?"

* * *

Jeremiah Valeska had thrown down the gauntlet. In the form of a dead body.

Query's.

It's all so senseless.

William had already started assembling his troops and laying out his strategy with Oswald. The top men in his Scarab Army are currently standing by, awaiting his orders.

The Pharaoh and The Joker are going to war. Imminently.

And that's why Edward had been called - not to say goodbye to Query - but to help William and Oswald plan their strategy.

_Grrr._

William should have been less cryptic. Edward had responsibilities down in The South. Now he'd have to get in touch with Lee or Leslie and see if they wouldn't mind handling rehearsals in his absence - even though he really didn't want to engage with them right now.

Sighing, he decides to put off the call he needs to make and instead walks to the window in his bedroom and stares out at the pool house. He had told Oswald he needed a minute before joining them - and it's true. He needs time to think about what to do next.

Query shouldn't be dead. Well . . . at least not again. Something about all of this business is unnatural and he shivers, despite the warmth of the house.

* * *

Edward finds himself effectively "wall creeping" down the hallway like Little Eddie used to do with Leslie and spies Oswald and William. They are having a heated debate over how to handle a particular strategic maneuver in the dining room turned war room, complete with a huge map of Gotham spread over the table.

Watching them, Edward notices that something is very different about his friend - and even William. It's subtle and he can't quite put a name to it, but their passionate argument definitely has undertones of something else . . . something stilted and not necessarily pretty.

It's obvious they're going to be occupied for a while so Edward continues on his mission. He heads to the kitchen to grab the buttermilk he knew would be there now that William has moved in. He also grabs a bowl and puts both into his oversized backpack.

He sneaks back down the hallway to William's room - which is easy to spot - he has two Anubis guards standing watch on either side of the door.

"Hey, uh . . . guys?" His query is met with silence. "Uh . . . yeah. The Pharaoh wanted me to to get something from his room."

No response.

"Uh. . . for a ceremony."

They don't even move. Hmm.

Tentatively, Edward reaches forward and places a hand on the doorknob.

Not a peep.

Okay then.

He lets himself in without incident.

After he shuts the door to William's bedroom behind him, he leans against it for a moment and shivers again. But why? Is it because those guards out there are the embodiment of Anubis, the ancient god of embalming? Or is it the fact that they live very close to death themselves?

And what exactly does that say about William that he chooses to be guarded by those who straddle the living and the dead?

Or him? Ironically, Edward's in here looking for embalming materials himself - to raise the dead.

Which he easily spots. There's a huge chest adorned with bodies in various stages of mummification - it's almost as if it's decorated with a step by step how-to guide. He finds the gauze in there.

But his backpack is only so large - how much gauze will he actually need? Hmm.

Edward does a quick calculation based upon what he remembers of Query's size and the fact that she likely won't need to be wrapped in more than one layer of gauze. Except for a small leftover patch to maintain thrall, the gauze is only meant to be temporary. A way to connect the dead body with its living soul and bind it in with buttermilk.

Now, where is that magical flute?

Edward searches a dark corner of William's room that is adorned with many hieroglyphs of -

"Aaagh!" Something fierce jumps out at him.

"That's not a cat!" he screeches.

The Anubis guards finally break their silence as Edward flees from the room.

They chuckle.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

"Goddamn panther . . . or whatever that was," Edward grumbles to himself. "No matter, I remember the notes - I can hum them. Not sure the flute is that important anyway . . . just ancient mumbo jumbo"

Edward leaves for the pool house with his bag of goodies, hoping that William's men had left Query's body there. And they have.

He sets down his bag and unshrouds her.

She really does look worse for wear - crumbling purplish skin, black blood pooled beneath her fingernails . . . She just looks so . . . fragile.

"Remind me never to die twice," Edward says to himself.

"MEOW!"

The chipper greeting of a silver tabby cat that had found its way into the pool house almost causes him to jump out of his skin. Since when has Oswald kept cats on the estate?

"Hope you're not one of The Pharaoh's eyes," Edward says.

Immediately the cat lifts a leg and begins licking his balls.

"Yeah, I'm guessing not."

Edward begins to remove various items from his bag. He's got everything he needs for a resurrection except for that flute - but he's fairly certain he won't need it.

* * *

Once Edward has Query all wrapped in gauze and buttermilk - that was a stinky job - he accesses the tones that he has programmed into his handheld device. He had memorized the scale that William had played on his flute that evening in his basement back in Beachview, so he had easily been able to program in just the right sequence of five notes to wake Query once more.

He presses the button and waits.

The first note plays. . .

Query's eyes spring open.

They are the same beautiful violet shade that they had been before. Yes! So far it's working without a hitch.

"MEOW!"

Edward turns to see that annoying little tabby cat standing right behind him, staring at him.

"Shh," he chastises him, worried that loud meowing might interfere with the tones Query needs to come back to life.

The next thing he knows, William bursts into the pool house.

"What are you doing?" he asks, alarmed.

"Raising Query from the dead," Edward says matter-of-factly. "Something YOU should be doing."

"Turn that thing off."

"What thing?" Edward feigns innocence.

The cat has run over to William and begins weaving in and out through his legs. As William walks forward it's as if the two of them have choreographed this little dance. Neither of them step on the other or impede each other in any way.

"MEOW!"

Once William stops besides Edward, he bends down and picks up the tabby and lovingly cuddles it, stirring up the purrs. "Hey there, Rex."

"Rex?" Ed asks in astonishment. "You named your cat after yourself?"

"Rex, Pharaoh, King . . . I'm comfortable sharing the title."

"At least he's not one of your eyes."

"Actually, he is."

Wait. What?

Edward shakes his head as if clearing water from his ears. "Did I hear that right? You have a pet zombie cat?"

William chuckles deeply and Rex's purring grows even louder as if he wants to be heard over it.

"Yeah, okay," Edward says. "Now, I've heard everything."

"Start again."

"Excuse me?" Edward realizes that he had stopped playing the notes at some point, but has no memory of it. Must have been the power of William's 'suggestion' or rather 'command.' Edward wishes he had The Pharaoh's formidable people skills. Sometimes.

William points at the device in his hands. "Keep playing the notes."

"But didn't you say -?"

"Yes, we shouldn't. It's taboo. But I, too, am a scholar like you and I am curious about what will actually happen, unnatural though it may be."

"I think raising the dead in the first place might be considered a bit unnatural."

William laughs again. "Then it's doubly so to do it twice, don't you think?"

Edward shakes his head and presses a button to resume the tones. "It's your funeral."

"Not quite."

Query's resurrection continues, following the same pattern as before, starting on the third note. She's already breathing by then, so Edward hurriedly removes the bandages from around her mouth. He must not have noticed that she had begun to do so - William had interrupted him just as the second note had started to play.

With the third note, her extremities start to twitch . . .

As the fourth note plays she pushes herself up . . .

But then the fifth note plays . . .


	3. Chapter 3

Edward is in hysterics, laughing like a madman and clapping his hands together in delight.

"What kind of a sick creature are you?" William asks, his brows coming together as he watches Edward double over in stitches. "She's in thrall to  _you_. Help her!"

Edward comes up for air to say, "No can do, buddy. This is too good!"

"Let me put her out of her misery then," William says and takes the woman into his arms. She's incoherent, speaking in tongues, and trying on a different personality each second.

William lays her on the floor and steps back. It turns out that Rex is also a panther.

* * *

"I thought you cared for that woman?"

William's booming voice from across the table irritates Edward as he's trying to think. All three of them are in the war room.

"You went out of your way to resurrect her," William continues. "Why would you -?"

"Because she's the key to everything," Edward snaps. "Oswald!"

"Yes, Edward?" his best friend replies, not more than three feet away from him. "You don't have to yell, you know."

"Okay, I need -"

"All the materials for your puzzle boxes, I know," Oswald impatiently interrupts him, rolling his eyes. "You don't need to ask again. I got everything you requested the last time we spoke -  _for The Riddle Factory_ \- because you told me you wanted to change things up the next time you're in town. But William and I are talking WAR here. Against Jeremiah. Do you remember that? Or has Query's resurrection rattled your brain?"

"My brain is fine," Edward answers quickly, dismissing Oswald's concerns. "And I AM talking about war. Our first battle actually. Query has shown me the path to defeating Jeremiah - or at least how to start. The rest will be up to you two."

"Oh, do tell." Oswald says, getting a conspiratorial look in his eyes.

William puts his fists on the table and leans in, ready to listen. Edward sees Oswald notice his rippling forearms. It's just a glance, but still . . . Oswald gulps.

"I need all my puzzle boxes completely assembled per my specifications except for one - the purple one," Edward says. "Please deliver it, its parts, and any remaining unused pieces from the other boxes to my room. It's time to make our move against Strange . . . and Tabby."

Oswald's eyes glow.

"Hopefully this first strike will wipe out most of Jeremiah's mutant army." Edward turns to William and asks, "We still know where they are, right?"

"They haven't relocated," William confirms. Damn, his 'eyes' really do come in handy sometimes.

"Good," Edward says and nods. "Then let's get started."

* * *

As Edward assembles the purple life-sized puzzle box in his room, Oswald flits around, trying to distract him but not succeeding. Edward does a fine job of ignoring him until the phone rings and his head briefly pops up from his work.

"Let me guess. You're expecting me to get that, aren't you?" Oswald asks as the phone continues to ring.

His sarcasm is lost on Edward. "Of course, I'm working."

"Why do I even bother with a staff, when I can have the privilege of waiting on you myself?" Oswald says. He moves past Edward to get to the phone.

"Thank you, Oswald."

"The Van Dahl Estate, Mr. Nygma's room. What do you want?" Oswald listens for a second and then turns back to Edward. "It's the old ball and chain."

Edward has gone back to the puzzle box and doesn't respond.

"Edward, are you here?" Oswald asks, exasperated.

"Nope."

"Fine." Oswald turns back to the phone. "Yeah, Lee, he doesn't want to speak with you."

"Oh, but do be a gent and ask her about the play for me," Edward says with a smile, taking another brief break from the box.

"Fine," Oswald says grumpily. "But you should be the one talking to her."

"Nope." Edward ducks his head back into the box. End of discussion.

"Yeah, Lee. About that Satanic play -"

Edward growls from inside the box, "It's not Satanic, Oswald!"

"Yes, he's been here with me the whole time. No worries. I mean, where else would he have gone?" Oswald laughs and then says, "Now about that play of Edward's . . ."

Edward pops his back out of the box once more to remind his friend, "Not the Satanic one."

Oswald just waves him away. "Ed's not going to be back down there for a while, so he was wondering -"

Edward can hear how upset Lee sounds on the other line. Best not to think about it - he goes back into the box.

"I need him here. With ME," Oswald says firmly. "You don't have a monopoly on his time -"

It goes silent for a bit.

"I understand he has responsibilities down there but I can't put an exact time on how long I'll need him. So, never mind that." Oswald changes the subject. "Now, about this play - this non-Satanic play as somehow Edward insists it is, even though your little girl is only playing the Prince of Hell herself - he wants to know -"

"It's called  _Paradise Lost_ , Oswald," Edward growls from inside the box.

After a moment of silence, Oswald speaks again. "Okay, Edward, she'll cover for you. Anything else?"

"Nope."

"Goodbye, Lee," Oswald says and unceremoniously hangs up the phone. "Well, that's done."

"Thank you, Oswald."

"Is everything okay with you guys?" Oswald asks.

"Just peachy." Edward says in a clipped manner.

"Are you and Lee still -"

"We're fine," Edward says. "What ever gave you the impression that we weren't?"


	4. Chapter 4

The puzzle boxes are complete - including the special one - and Martin is hovering around the three men in the dining room-turned-war room as they continue to debate the best course of action for their strike against Strange’s facility - and ultimately Jeremiah. The young boy is holding some of Dini’s mail in his hands.

“Look, we need to follow MY plan. I’m the brains of this operation,” Edward insists.

William straightens up, crosses his arms, and challenges that statement with his piercing gaze.

Edward puts up a hand and corrects himself. “The brains of _this_ part of the operation. I concede that you’ll be in charge of our strategy moving forward, William.”

The imposing man nods and relaxes his stance.

“What about _me?_ ” Oswald protests.

“Uh . . . You’re _not_ the brains of this operation.  . ?” William chuckles at Edward’s unintentionally blunt reply to Oswald, but then he tries to soften the blow.

“We’re not implying that you’re not smart, Ozzie. It’s just that we think you should let us handle this part.”

“Don’t you _dare_ ‘Ozzie’ me!” Oswald says, shaking a finger at William. Edward is perplexed as to why William’s use of the nickname reserved solely for him should suddenly be a cause for anger. “We’re _business partners._ ”

Edward senses a shift between the two men as they lock eyes and breathe heavily into the tense silence between them - and he’s fairly certain that the term “business partners” is loaded - just like it had been between him and Oswald.

But then Oswald straightens himself out - he always gets his feathers a bit ruffled from his own outbursts - and once he has a lid on his emotions, he turns to his best friend and says, “Edward, it _has_ to be you.”

Oh please, not this again. Edward sighs.

Before he can even protest, Oswald presses something into his palm. It’s a small remote with a seemingly innocuous name printed on its label. But it’s not.

_Shiva._

“It has to be you,” Oswald says again with emphasis.

 _Please don’t ask this of me!_ every bone in Edward’s body screams, yet he remains silent.

“For my mother,” Oswald says and the tortured look on his face makes Edward want to cry himself.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” Edward whispers. “For _you_ , Oswald.”

* * *

After William and Edward have agreed upon the best entry point into Ace Chemicals - Jeremiah had been foolish enough not to move his operation from the facility that he had left Edward the plans for - Edward finally notices that Martin keeps tugging on his father’s tails.

“WHAT is it, dear boy?” Oswald finally asks, exasperated.

The boy, undaunted by his father’s outburst just calmly lifts up a piece of Dini’s mail.

“Poopdeque” it reads at the top of the page.

Below that are a myriad of drawings, including a building that is probably meant to represent Deque Discovery in BioTech Bay. It’s an utter mess. How could even a bright 8-year-old boy like Martin make out what Dini is trying to convey?

“What do you want to know about poopdeque, Martin?”

Oswald bends down to his son and then turns back to Edward, beaming. “My brilliant son wants to know why Poopdeque isn’t distributed here in Gotham. He thinks it would be a natural money maker, and so do I.”

“Well, from what I have come to understand, Poopdeque isn’t stable up here. One of the main theories is that it needs the salt air to maintain its potency - that somehow it degrades without it. It’s postulated that there’s something about the lattice structure -”

“Blah blah blah. Insert scientific mumbo jumbo here,” Oswald says impatiently, interrupting him.

Edward looks over at William and they share a grin. There must have been countless times that concepts flowing from the professor’s overly educated mind had also fallen on deaf ears and been dismissed outright by the ignorant. He hates to think of his best friend that way, but Oswald is no scientist - nor is he versed in history. Nor does he care to be.

* * *

As he gets ready for bed, Edward can’t help but think about Dini and the mail that she had asked him to bring up here for Martin. The boy had been going through it all day - over and over. He seemed to spend the same amount of time with each piece - including her nuclear family drawing, as if it wasn’t anything special. But it was the piece that stuck out the most in Edward’s mind.

_“Why are you so enamored by the idea of a nuclear family, Dini? Families can have just one parent.”_

_“Yes, but I’ve always craved two. Even when I was still with my mom.”_

_“Why?”_

_“So they can temper each other.”_

_“‘Temper each other?’ That’s another big word you’ve learned there, kiddo.”_

_She proudly smiles a grin full of teeth. “It means to balance each other out. Like if I had a father and my mom started drinking too much one night, he could get her to stop.”_

_“I’m sorry to say this kiddo, but that’s not the way that works.”_

Edward thinks about The Doc and wishes he could have found the key that would get her to stop drinking. He hadn’t been able to solve that particular puzzle and now he’s not even sure she’s even coming back. He may never have the chance to try again.

Sitting down on his bed, he runs his hands through his hair in despair. He can’t seem to put Lee back together again either. Humpty dumpty is real. He feels like the most useless of all the king’s men.

“Meow!”

“Oh hey there, Rex,” Edward says and the friendly cat jumps up onto his bed. He’s in his more innocuous form - the silver tabby.

Edward scratches him under the chin and he purrs before pulling his head away at a noise out in the hallway that only he can hear. When he turns back to Edward, Rex gives him a little side bump to his arm in parting and then jumps off the bed before scampering out into the hallway.

When Edward gets up to shut the door behind him, he notices that no one had been out there except for Oswald, who’d just shut the door behind himself, complete in his robe, his father’s stocking cap, and his portable night light shaped like a candle set in a golden holder. Edward smiles, thinking about how Oswald’s always seemed to fashion himself like someone from a bygone era - similar to the one Dini seems to be overly fond of. No wonder they get along so well.

* * *

Impatiently, Edward knocks on Oswald’s door the next morning. They’re running late.

“Oswald!”

Where’s William? He can’t be asleep, too, can he? There's no sign of him in the hallway. 

There’s a groan of assent that comes from Oswald’s room that almost sounds like, “Come in.”

Edward pushes open the door and finds Oswald tangled up with  . . .

. . . a panther.

His heart skips a beat. _Is he okay?_

Apparently so. He snuggles deeper into the cat, and the cat - Rex to be precise - licks his forehead. Oswald purrs like a kitten.

“Oswald!”

“Wha -?” Oswald almost knocks off his sleeping cap as he disentangles himself from the cat and starts to sit up.

Rex is now a tabby. Blink and you’d miss it. Edward had.

“Now _that_ . . . is freaky,” Edward muses.

“What?” Oswald asks.

Rex meows innocently.

“Hey there,” Oswald says and takes Rex into his arms once again.

Suddenly, William is at the door of Oswald’s bedroom dressed in nothing more than an oddly fashioned white linen robe, so thin that it’s practically see-through - and it’s quite apparent that he’s not wearing anything underneath it. Oswald’s definitely not the only one who slumbers in a different era.

“Hey, William,” Edward greets him before Oswald can. He asks almost casually, “Say, isn’t Rex one of your eyes?”

Oswald’s mouth pops open and he turns bright red as it dons on him what Edward is implying. He and William exchange almost uncomfortable looks. But then Oswald closes his mouth and snaps at his best friend, “Don’t overthink it, Edward.”

“I’m not.”

“It’s as innocent as it appears to be,” Oswald says, chin up, defending William.

It doesn’t appear to be innocent at all. Edward gives William a look. William’s averted gaze and nervous shuffling tells him all he needs to know.

“Let’s going guys. We’ve got a mutant army to annihilate,” Edward says crisply and walks away.


	5. Chapter 5

"What's the big deal? So what if I didn't assume that he could feel me through that sweet innocent cat?" Oswald says. "I like sleeping with Rex. He's comforting."

He and Edward are eating a quick breakfast as William is preparing himself for battle, full makeup and all.

"Oswald, he cuddled you without consent!" Edward protests.

Oswald just chuckles. "Yeah, I'd like to see that hold up in court."

"Not funny."

"I know, friend," Oswald reaches out to pat his hand. "Thanks for looking out for me, but I can handle myself around William."

"Sometimes I really don't like him," Edward growls.

"I know." Oswald sighs.

"He takes liberties."

Oswald doesn't respond, just delicately munches on some toast.

"Those are PEOPLE he's going to sacrifice today, Oswald."

"No, Edward, they're  _corpses_."

"No!" Edward leans forward and points a finger at Oswald. "William's Scarab Army is full of people. He restores their souls and then binds them to himself."

"At least he's giving them a second chance at life."

"He's using them."

"Edward," Oswald says, trying to be patient. "How many times have I used someone to get what I want, to turn a situation to my advantage?"

"Countless times. Why?"

"Well as I've noticed, you don't judge me for that."

Actually . . .

"So, please don't pass judgement on William for it either. We're of the same ilk."

Unbelievable. Edward just shakes his head. This was something they'd never agree upon.

"Tell me something, Oswald. The truth."

"Of course."

"You're not planning to sell William down the river in exchange for using that remote that Jeremiah gave to us, are you?" Edward could never complety trust his best friend's loyalties. They seemed to change as quickly as his moods.

"Nope."

"Why not? It can't possibly be your budding  _friendship_ ," Edward says bitterly.

Oswald chokes a bit on his poached eggs when Edward says 'friendship.'

"Your feelings for  _me_  never stopped you from betraying me."

Oswald replies in a clipped tone, "I find William to be more useful than Jeremiah. That is all."

Edward can't argue with that. Oswald is right. He is.

* * *

The driver drops Oswald off at a location a discrete and safe distance away from Ace Chemicals so they he can lie in wait until it is time for him to deliver the coup de grace. Oswald's already extending his spyglass to get the lay of the land before Edward is whisked away to the Sirens' territory.

It's a bit of a drive and Edward finds himself nodding off. . .

"What am I to you?"

She had been using him - he just knows it.

"I was offering you something real."

Instead of the knife to gut that he had been expecting she slaps him. Hard.

Her knife clatters to the floor with the force of her hand. Her breasts heave between the deep cut of her royal blue blouse as his cheek stings and pulses with the heat of the blood that rushes to the red handprint on his face.

He bows before her to pick it up.

"I'll take that."

The knife - no the spoon - is suddenly yanked out of his hands by his impatient mother before he can even rise.

His parents are arguing in the kitchen, his mother raising her hand with the wooden spoon in it - the one she would use to nudge him, just nudge him. She would never hit him. She would never -

But she has never had any qualms about using the spoon on his father.

Smack!

Now a small oval mark is forming on the same cheek as his son's. They both reach out to touch each other's shame.

Little Edward bows his head.

"Da!" a slap to the face awakens him. It's from an incredibly small hand, so it doesn't hurt at all. He puts the tip of his index finger inside its tiny palm and pulls it forward to kiss all the little fingers on it. His daughter giggles in delight and the bun holding her incredible amount of hair slips to the side of her head, but thankfully doesn't unravel. Putting it all back up isn't always easy, given that she likes to grab at it and play with it - and she has more than two hands to contend with.

"Mo!" she shouts and proffers her three other hands for him to kiss. So many to choose from . . .

Wait? Did his daughter just say, "More?"

"'More?'" he asks her. "You want - ?"

"Mo!" she shouts once again and wiggles the fingers on three of her hands - the ones that he hasn't kissed yet.

"Well, I'll be damned." He whistles.

He's never heard her say anything before except 'Mmm' and 'Da' - her version of Mom and Dad.

"Lee?"

She's not there. She must be getting something in the main house. Ugh, his leg really hurts. He hopes she can find something for that - and soon.

"Mmm?"

"Yes, 'Mmm.'" He smiles. "'Your ma is who I'm looking for but she's not here."

Suddenly three of her arms rise above him and there's a devious gleam in her eyes. Her fourth arm supports her in her attempt to push herself up from his chest to get even higher. Suddenly, all the fingers poised above him start to wiggle menacingly.

"Mo!" she screeches, and when he doesn't comply they all almost come down to smack his face, except -

He's lifted her off of his chest and now she's cooing and gurgling. And now here comes the slobber . . .

"Oh, ick! Kristen!" he says as a big drop of saliva lands on his face and he instinctively squeezes his eyes shut.

There's more giggling from the infant and threats of more slobber.

"Alright, alright. Back down here, baby," he says and brings her back down to his chest, wiping her slobber off his face.

He finds a part of his shirt - the collar to be exact - to wipe her mouth and chin with. It's difficult because he doesn't quite know when to stop because of her protruding tongue. It's always going to be wet.

"Now you're just lucky that I'm your father so you're allowed to drool on me. Anyone else . . ."

At that, she snuggles into him with all four of her little arms clutched onto his chest and promptly falls asleep. He drifts off too, the rhythm of her tiny little heart against his leading the way.

And then it was bursts . . .

"Aaahhh!" Edward breathes in with a gasp and finds himself in a car, its rhythm soothing enough to fall asleep to.

But instead, he's suddenly awake.

He leans forward and feels the tears on his eyes - yes, they are tears for his daughter. But he doesn't wipe them off - instead he folds his hands and makes an oath.

"Today isn't just about mommy and me, baby. Today is also for YOU.  _You_  will be avenged - I promise."

Edward has plans to ensure no other mutant will ever be created by Professor Strange. And the last known mutant of her kind will be wiped from this earth with the passing of her 'brother,' Cyrus. Hopefully, after he is gone, she too can be at peace.

"For you, Kristen," he whispers. "This is for you."


	6. Chapter 6

“You’re a psychopath and a murderer,” Jim had declared to Edward one day as he expressed his utter disbelief that Lee would actually choose to be with him. And when Jim had basically said the same thing to Lee earlier in regards to their budding partnership, she had flippantly replied that they all had their flaws.

Well, today they aren’t flaws. They’re advantages.

As Edward comes upon the purple puzzle box that William's people have placed inside Professor Strange’s private lab at the Ace Chemical facility, his heartbeat slows way down and his every sense focuses on that box, anticipating who is to find his way into it.

Tabby’s request for further instructions is barely discernible - it sounds as if her words have sludged through a deep swamp just to reach his ears. He waves her into position, then lies in wait for that tottering little professor with the ridiculous fringe of hair aspiring to be a beard to come sauntering by, stroking it, deep in thought.

And Professor Hugo Strange does not disappoint.

As curious - and stupid - as a cat, he locks himself inside of the hideously purple and green box without delay, ignorant of it’s aposematic signals - or disdainful of them. Such vibrant and contrasting coloring in nature often signals toxins.

“Oh my!” his soft muffled cry hits Edward’s ears without any interference. And unlike Tabby’s voice, it’s as clear as day. Oh my, indeed.

Edward allows himself just one smug grin - then he gets to work.

* * *

“Hello, Professor Strange,” Edward says through the slat he’d left open for communication with the victim inside his Box ‘O Toxins.

“Edward Nygma,” the professor replies with his strangely deliberate cadence.

“You do realize you’ve walked into a trap, right?”

“It would appear so.” Hugo Strange smiles smugly. “But knowing you, you’ve given me a way out.”

Edward just grins in return. The grin does not make it all the way to his eyes.

“I’m assuming you’d like me answer some riddles? Come come, dear Riddler, do you even know what variety is? Or are you destined to repeat the same patterns over and over?” Hugo strange shakes his head, mocking disappointment. “Forever destined to fail, are we?”

“Riddle me this -” Edward begins, then puts up a finger. “No, wait. Wrong crowd. It’s just you and me, Strange. There’s no riddle for you here.”

Edward presses a button and clamps from within the box hold Strange in place. A smaller one unbuttons his lab coat and pulls the top of his pants just a few inches down.

“What is the meaning of this!” Strange asks in alarm.

A purple Tygon tube housing a syringe with a long needle at the end of it inserts itself deep into his belly.

“You ever heard of a little something called Shiga toxin?”

“Of course. It causes hemorrhagic colitis in those who have eaten contaminated food and, in the unlucky, hemolytic-uremic syndrome.”

“Bloody diarrhea and kidney failure - all poop and no pee! Sounds like fun to me!”  Edward laughs diabolically. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Started doing what?”

“Oh yeah, sorry, my bad,” Edward says, not sounding sorry at all. “See that tube right there?”

Strange looks down at his stomach.

“Well, the needle at the end of that tube has burrowed directly to your intestinal tract and is ready to pump you full of Shiga toxin.” Edward rubs his hands together in gleeful anticipation.

Strange struggles against the restraints. “But, but . . . you could kill me if the dose is high enough -”

“That’s the plan!” Edward laughs with mirth and then puts up a finger once again. “Oh! But only if you answer my questions incorrectly.”

“What questions?”

“Firstly - and answer carefully professor -” Edward brings his fingers to his lips and pauses . . . in remembrance. “Why did you consider my daughter - Kristen - expendable? Why did all of your resources go to the boy? They were part of the same project.”

“Well, you see, Kali - Kristen if you must call her that - was conceived naturally before I could get my hands on her embryo. So many flaws when you mate that way, you know.” The professor shakes his head and tsks.

“You can’t possibly tell me that Tabitha Galavan and Butch Galzean’s starting DNA was better than ours,” Edward protests.

“Of course I can,” Professor Strange answers menacingly. “And that is exactly what I _am_ saying. Even though I could pick and choose the traits for Cyrus myself from Butch and Tabitha’s chromosomes, your genetic material was incompatible with each other from the start. I wouldn't have been able to pick out anything decent from that mess anyway.”

“Wrong Answer!” Edward shouts as he presses the button for the release of the Shiga toxins. HARD.

The deranged professor starts gurgling as the rush of liquid pumps through the tubing and into his body. Fast.

“Oh that’s nothing, dear professor! Just wait - it will be shit city in there in a matter of minutes.”

“Please . . .”

Edward growls, “Oh no! We’re not stopping now - we’re just getting started.”

Two more Tygon tubes latch themselves onto the professor’s body. One inserts a needle into his neck, the other into his lower back. He winces.

“Ever heard of Spasmogenic toxin?”

The professor’s eyes dart back and forth in fear, but then he clenches them shut as he moans and -

“Yeah, that doesn’t smell so good,” Edward says and wafts his hand in the air. Peeking into the box, he can see that the professor is now covered in runny shit from the crotch down. Soon it will turn bloody. No time to waste!

He pulls away.

“Okay, Spasmogenic toxin is derived from our good pal Clostridium tetani - yes, that’s tetanus if you weren’t paying attention - and it does just what it sounds like it might, given its name. But because Spasmogenic toxin is considered the second most deadly toxin in the world, I will be administering it to you in lower doses. Just enough for excruciating pain - but not enough for the sweet release of death. Oh!” Edward snaps his fingers and grins. “But only if you give me an incorrect answer.”

Could the wetness streaking down the professor’s face actually be tears?

Excellent!

Edward smiles before leaning his face closer to the slat in the box and whispering, “I just want to remind you that the damage Spasmogenic toxin does to the body is permanent.”

There’s gasping coming from inside the box . . . and more poop. . .  and . . . ah, there’s the blood. Yeah. Edward pulls away yet once again.

Something’s been bothering him. For a long time. And he’s on the cusp of getting the answer from Professor Strange - he can feel it.

“So, here’s the $64,000 question, ‘good’ professor. WHY were our chromosomes incompatible? Lee’s and mine.”

“Well, the both of you were moderately intelligent, so that trait was likely to pass on . . .” Strange takes a break from talking to moan and pass more blood. “But nothing else of any merit really did. Not into your daughter anyway. Together, you two easily created a ‘worst of breed.’”

The professor pants through a new round of stomach cramps as he awaits Edward’s response.

The right corner Edward’s lip lifts in a barely discernible sneer, yet no words pass his lips. Cool as a cucumber, he presses down on both buttons that control the release of Spasmogenic toxin into the tubes connected to Strange's spinal cord.

And, as predicted, the man’s body spasms and tries to bend against the restraints, writhing in agony. Absolute agony.

It’s enough to bring a smile to one’s face. Professor Strange’s is an eerily forced one, brought on by facial spasms, but Edward’s is large, toothy . . . and genuine.

As Edward had told the professor, he can’t exactly turn that one off. Spasmogenic toxin binds irreversibly to the neurons its attached to.

“Okay, one more question, professor. And I do hope you answer it correctly.” And he means that.

One more tube comes out from the wall and inserts a needle into the vein it finds in Strange’s inner elbow, which is now being held immobile by an additional restraint as the rest of his body is continually racked with spasms. The professor may be in pain, but he still has one last question to answer. One Edward knows only HE can.

“I’m not even going to tell you what’s in that new syringe, Strange. You’re just going to have to trust me that it’s not something you want in your body.”

Strange shakes his head vigorously.

Edward’s going to take that as his complete understanding of the situation.

“You need to think very carefully about this next question. I expect a detailed answer, despite the delicate position you currently find yourself in.”

The man moans loudly and his body jerks hard against the restraints, but he still manages to pant out an “Okay" between spasms.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other, Strange,” Edward says.

This really is the $64,000 question - it could uncover the reason behind his horrific childhood. “What exactly is wrong with my chromosomes?”

“What?”

What had made him sick? He desperately needs to know the answer to this question - to solve this riddle. “What is it about my DNA, my genes -”

Strange starts laughing along with his spasms - and somehow that starts up a foaming in his mouth.

“What?”

“You wish for a genetic reason for your failings?”

Not exactly.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t provide you that. You’re as normal -”

Edward takes in an impatient breath as the professor lets loose some more bloody stool.

“You’re as mundane as anyone else, Mr. Nygma." There's a pause as the professor is racked with spasms he can't speak through. "You’re not special in anyway.”

Edward stares the man down as he presses the final button and watches him die the way Kristen had - suddenly, and without warning.

Sepsis. Endotoxin shock. It’s too good for him.

Strange had mutated his daughter to the point of terrible suffering and then taken her life prematurely. He and Lee had less than a week with their baby girl before that evil man had literally pulled the plug on her life. As Edward watches him turn blue just like she had, the startled and confused face his infant daughter had borne in her final seconds flashes in and out of his vision.

But then Professor Strange passes without even a whimper.

“I did it for you, baby,” Edward whispers, reaching towards an ethereal vision of his daughter Kristen with her beautiful mermaid hair, swimming free at least. “You’re finally avenged.”

“But as for you. . .”

Edward returns to reality, reaching for a lever on the side of the purple and green box - the final modification to the Box O’ Toxins that he had made specifically for this momentous day.

“I’m not done with you just yet,” he growls at the monster who had haunted him for far too long. 

He pulls the lever and buttermilk rains down and splashes over the corpse still restrained within it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for indulging me in what I like to call Gotham crack science. Those are all real toxins I mention ... it's just that I'm fairly certain they wouldn't work in the exact manner they do here given those conditions (ie - with that kind of speed and without their normal bacterial host, one of which I have great familiarity with due to past work experience), but I had fun postulating it. And hey, Lucius Fox (not even a virologist by his own account) still somehow discovered and produced a cure for a previously unknown virus (the Tetch virus) for all the afflicted victims in Gotham within a week. So yeah, I don't mind taking liberties with known science here. As I think I heard Ed say once, "Only in Gotham . . ."


	7. Chapter 7

After the dead professor had been completely doused in buttermilk and metallic arms from within the Box ‘O Toxins had started to wrap him in gauze, Tabby pokes her head in and says urgently, “You done yet, Nygma? My boy . . .”

“It’s almost time to get your boy, Tabby, don’t fret. The ‘good professor' here is about ready to help us. We just have to -” 

“Make it quick,” The Tigress snaps, her whip swinging around and following her out the door as if it were her tail.

Once she’s gone, Edward leans into the slat of the puzzle box as the smell of buttermilk and fresh death - among even more distasteful things - assault his senses. 

“We’re going to get YOUR boy, aren’t we, Professor? Your PREFERRED progeny.”

The words are bitter in his mouth. Perhaps Oswald’s request - _it has to be you_ \- will end in dual satisfaction. Both Tabby and Strange will lose their child that day. Double revenge. Double loss. Perhaps that will make it okay.

Edward pushes the thought from his mind and sighs deeply. As his shoulders droop, he presses the button on his mobile device to start the sequence of notes he had programmed into it.

“Wakey, wakey,” he whispers.

* * *

Once the process is complete, Edward opens the box and lets Strange fall face first to the floor - still fully wrapped.

There’s a loud groan from Edward’s first buttermilk zombie as it jerks around on the ground beneath him. Ugh. Spasmogenic toxin - the toxin found in tetanus. Yes, it really does like to stay attached to those neurons - even in death.

The professor starts gasping for air and Edward pushes him over with the end of his staff. Some of the gauze comes undone, but unfortunately, not around his mouth or head. Edward must do that for him.

"Sit up."

Strange complies and Edward bends over to whip the loosely wound gauze from around his head, revealing his mouth and eyes, keeping a small patch on the back of his neck to maintain the thrall. The professor’s face is still in that oddly contorted grimace from before. Edward’s face sprouts a smile of its own at the sight of it. But then he pinches his nose tightly. Damn, Strange definitely smells worse now that he’s outside of the box.

“Stand up,” Edward commands.

The professor jerks to an upright position.

Edward doesn’t even bother to soften the jolt of being torn from death like William does for his zombies. He doesn’t tell Strange that everything is going to be okay - because it won’t. Instead, he gets right down to business.

“Bring me Cyrus.”

“Who?” Strange asks.

“Shiva. Your son,” Edward says brusquely. “Or more accurately, Tabby’s son.”

“No, he’s mine. I made him.”

“That doesn’t make you his father,” Edward growls and then turns his mouth down into a frown as he wonders how it would have been for Kristen if this monster had presumed he was her father.

“Tabby,” Edward calls out the door. “Show’s on.”

“What?” Professor Strange asks, watching Tabby walk through it.

“What happened to _him_?” she says, looking at Strange and wrinkling her nose in distaste. 

She still has no clue that buttermilk zombies even exist - and Edward has no intention of enlightening her. “Oh, he just got what he deserved.”

“Good,” Tabby says firmly, her eyes traveling up and down the twitching professor’s body - nice and slow. “I want to take him out when we’re done.”

“Already taken care of,” Edward says.

“What’s already taken care of?”

“You’re obviously too dumb to comprehend what I just said if you have to ask me that question.”

“Whatever, Nygma,” Tabby snaps, losing patience. “I want my boy. _Now_.”

“Good professor, I do believe you can bring him to us, no?”

“No,” Strange says weakly, yet despite voicing his refusal, his body begins creeping towards the wall. And when gets there, he starts to call someone. He whimpers quietly as he waits for that someone to answer, “Not my boy. Please not my boy.”

“Cyrus isn’t _your_ boy, Strange,” Tabby growls. “He’s _mine_.”

“Well then, today perhaps, the professor will finally learn his lesson,” Edward answers cryptically before he notices something red scuttling across the ceiling. 

He looks up to see a large red beetle with a giant human eye on its back and he shivers - some manifestations of William’s eyes could be so creepy. Once it realizes it’s been seen, it fades back up into the ceiling. No wait, that’s camouflage. _Ingenious_. William’s eyes were also chameleons. Damn.

“You heard me correctly, doctor. Please bring Shiva to my office.” Professor Strange’s cadence is normal despite all his jerking around due to the spasms still wracking his body. Having him in thrall is fantastic - Edward truly understands the appeal of having buttermilk zombies now. Just listening to Strange's voice, no one would even suspect that anything odd is going on. 

The professor finishes the call and then begins the tense silent, wait.

Tabby paces, her ‘tail’ dragging along the ground. Edward notices it still has some of Cyrus’ white goo on it. A piece of her son and a tangible reminder that he can be resurrected. A piece of hope.

Strange tries to steady himself in a corner to quiet his spasms as Edward shoots daggers at him. If looks could kill.

But that won’t be necessary . . . Edward’s got other plans. He touches the remote in his pocket. The one labeled ‘Shiva.’

* * *

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” Tabby yells as Oswald and William enter the room.

“Oh, just a little viewing party,” Oswald says smugly as Edward’s chest tightens, knowing what he has to do.

_It has to be you_

_But WHY?_

Before things can get too ugly between Tabby and Oswald, a tall, broad man walks into the room. He’s got ashes on his dark chest and his black hair is coiled into an intricate bun. His most distinctive feature remains his four arms. They are more muscle-bound than even the Pharaoh’s.

“Kristen,” Edward whispers inaudibly to himself, gazing in awe at this man - this young, but fully grown man. This is how old Kristen would have looked by now.

“Cyrus!" Tabby practically screeches and leaps forward to cling to her cub. There's a brilliant smile on her face as she pulls away to say, "You look just like your father.”

“Butch wasn’t that tall,” Edward reminds her snidely.

“Good one,” Oswald says and cracks a smile.

“Well, he’s got my genes, too,” Tabby retorts. “Don’t you son?”

She is absolutely beaming as she looks back at him. 

“Yes, mother,” Cyrus answers and hugs her again. 

“And none of yours, Strange,” Edward says, accusingly pointing a finger at the man still huddled in the corner.

“Edward!” Oswald exclaims, clearly not understanding the context. “We have no time for any of your convoluted -”

“I know,” Edward says. “We need to leave. Come, Professor.”

Oswald looks absolutely delighted as he witnesses Professor Strange obey Edward’s command. “You didn’t . . .”

“He did,” William says, and casually puts a hand on Oswald’s shoulder.

Tabby’s eyes narrow as she witnesses the gesture. “I should ask Cyrus to assist me in killing your companion right now, Penguin. For Butch.”

“You could,” Oswald says, walking towards her, leaving William’s hand behind. “But it wouldn’t have the same effect.”

“No?”

“Despite his . . . familiarity with me . . . William is most certainly not my one great love and he never will be. Somebody else is,” Oswald says without giving anything away - not even sneaking a quick glance at Edward.

Even so, Edward’s heart starts beating faster and he struggles to maintain a poker face. Despite Oswald’s caution, Tabby still stands a chance of figuring out his heart - Jeremiah had - and then all could go to hell here pretty quickly. Edward looks over at William who is now standing with crossed arms, glaring at Oswald. His little exchange with Tabby must have really hit a nerve. A deep one.

“We need to get out of here while we’re still under the cover of your army, William," Edward says. "I take it this part of the facility is secure enough for us to start heading out?”

“Certainly.” William unfolds his arms and nods at Edward, getting back to the task at hand.

“Cyrus, we’re taking you home, baby,” Tabby says to her son reassuringly, even though he’s far from a baby.

The young man glances back nervously at the professor as they all file out the door, William in front, Edward in back - as planned. “Will he come with us, too?”

“What?” Tabby asks, not understanding.

“Will Father come with us too?”

“What?” Tabby whips around to face her grown child, causing everyone to stop walking. She squeezes his cheeks together with one hand. “What did you just say. . . ?”

“F-father?” Cyrus says uncertainly, glancing over at the man who is still in thrall to Edward. Despite all his involuntary twitching, Edward can clearly see the desperation in Hugo Strange’s gaze as he looks at his creation. _Good_.

“That man is _not_ your father,” Tabby says sternly. “BUTCH GALZEAN was your father. We’ve talked about this. That man over there warped you - tortured you - made you into this.”

“But, he was the only one who played with me, let me out of my cell.”

Tabby groans, walks over to Strange and drags him over to her son. Shaking him in Cyrus’ face she yells, “This man is not your father. He killed Vasuki just to make you into what HE wanted you to be - don’t you remember that? You loved that snake. This man is a monster. LOOK.”

Tears form at the corner of her boy’s eyes just as tears start to fall from Strange’s.

“So, he’s not coming home with us?” Cyrus whines.

A sick feeling forms deep in Edward’s belly. This could have been Kristen’s fate - enamored and grateful to her captor, her tormentor. 

He positions Strange back in line and gruffly tells Cyrus, “No. Walk.”


	8. Chapter 8

  

_Warning: This chapter contains disturbing content. If you are sensitive, please proceed with caution._

* * *

They find their way to a chemistry lab.

“What are we making a pitstop for, Nygma?” Tabby demands. “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

“All part of the plan,” Edward says in a clipped tone before turning to Professor Strange. “I need you to prepare some lactic acid solution.”

Some of the chemists are so intimidated by The Penguin, The Pharaoh, The Tigress, and The Riddler all suddenly descending upon their lab at once that they instinctively hop down from their stools to do Edward’s bidding.

“No,” Edward says, lifting a finger in the air to halt them. “This is a task for Professor Strange alone.”

“What concentration do you want?” Strange asks, sighing in defeat.

“0.5 grams per 100 mL,” Edward replies. It’s the usual concentration of lactic acid found in buttermilk. “Make me a liter of it.”

* * *

“Is this absolutely necessary?” Tabby growls quietly.

“Patience, dumb one.”

“Look, I’ve had quite enough of -” she starts.

“He’s just performing a dilution. Piece of cake,” Edward snaps. “But I wouldn’t expect you to know that. You’ve obviously spent more time standing in a ring than using a ring stand.”

Her face scrunches up quizzically and she shakes her head, not comprehending. A few of the chemists titter at her confusion. Not a good move. She turns to face them with menace flickering in her eyes.

“I’ve got it!” Professor Strange calls out, hurrying back to Edward, effectively distracting Tabby from attacking any of them.

As Strange passes by the chemists at their benches, every single one of them involuntarily wrinkles their nose - and most chemists smell bad things everyday. Edward smiles delightedly at how disgusting he's made Strange smell by this point. It can't be pleasant for the doddering professor either. 

He hands over the beaker of lactic acid that he had prepared and immediately Edward turns it over and douses him with it.

“Wha -?”

“Now I want you to take a scalpel -”

“A scalpel?” Strange protests. “This is a chemistry lab.”

Edward points to the pocket protector tucked into the breast pocket of his white coat.

“Oh.” Strange pulls the scalpel out of it. He must have forgotten it was there.

“Good thing you don’t care a lick about hygiene.” Edward shudders, wondering how many specimens - er, people - he had cut into with that thing without sterilizing it first.

“You okay, Edward?” Oswald asks.

“Yes.” Edward squares his shoulders. “Now, shall we continue with the show?”

“What show?” Tabby asks.

Without missing a beat, Edward pulls the ‘Shiva’ remote out of his pocket and holds it aloft for everyone to see. Professor Strange gasps as Oswald’s eyes dance. Otherwise there is complete silence. . .

Edward presses the button and his eyes bore into the professor’s, cold and hard as steel.

The simultaneous “Nos!” from Tabby and Strange merge into a strange, mournful harmony. Both watch in horror as Cyrus -

Edward can’t watch. He won’t.

Even as Strange runs to the boy, Edward puts his arm out, blocking him from reaching Cyrus. Restraining Strange distracts him so that he can’t fully witness what is happening to Kristen’s, well . . . essentially her brother.

There is weeping from Tabby once the boy is dead, but she hasn’t jumped up to attack Edward for killing her son yet. Remotely, he wonders why.

But then he turns to Strange and says, “Now that you’ve seen ‘your’ precious boy die by my hand, I will allow you to slit your own throat. End it all - all the pain, all the misery that you carry.”

Edward smiles once again - a fake smile that never quite reaches his eyes, knowing that he’s offering the man - the monster, really - an empty promise.

Strange lifts the scalpel to his neck and hesitates.

“Do it,” Edward breathes into his face.

Oswald starts up his planned grandiose speech about mothers and sons for Tabby now that Edward has fulfilled his duty. But Edward can’t let himself think about that anymore. He’s got one more mission.

“Do it,” he breathes again.

A thin red line forms along Strange’s neck.

“Deeper.”

And now he’s hit the jugular! 

Edward’s signature laugh erupts from his mouth as he watches Strange fall forward - still twitching from the spasmotoxin. And now a most satisfying pool of blood quickly forms around his body. It is marvelous to behold! My, how much blood the human body contains. But -

Edward wonders if it’s washing away the lactic acid that he had just made the professor so carefully prepare. Crap.

“William, please help me,” Edward pleads to the large man standing behind Oswald as The Penguin prepares to deliver one final mercy to The Tigress as she lies slumped over her dead son’s body. “Quickly.”

William’s brows furrow.

“Help me get him up!” Edward says, pointing to Strange’s body. Even with his staff for support, he knows he won’t be able to lift it on his own - or even more likely, not at all.

“But isn’t he -?”

“Dead, yes,” Edward says impatiently. “Twice now. But I know what I’m doing.”

“Ahh!” William says, finally comprehending and coming over to lift the corpse of Professor Strange from the pool of blood that surrounds him, careful not to slip in it. “You are one sick man, Edward. But I like your style.”

“Thank you,” Edward replies. Once Strange is propped up, he says, “Now for the music.”

Out of nowhere, William pulls out his double flute.

“Wha -?” Edward had planned to do this part himself with the notes he had already programmed. Wait. Where the hell had William been storing that thing? It’s huge.

William drops to one knee and begins to play a familiar tune.

And exactly what Edward had wanted to happen happens.

Strange comes back.

Shattered.

Just like Query. Unable to make sense of his environment, muttering gibberish . . . but burdened with thousands of personalities. Edward’s hypothesis had been correct. Just using lactic acid instead of buttermilk with no bandages to maintain thrall had split his personalities spectacularly this time around. Even more so than Query. Wonderful.

Edward grabs man who now smells worse than death by the collar and says in a low voice, “You’re going to live the rest of your life like this, you bastard - paying penance for what you did to Lee.”

Since Strange isn’t in thrall to anyone this time, he’s on his own. Forever. Edward releases his collar, wipes his hands in disgust, and strides to the door. Once at the doorway, he pauses for a moment. And then with a turn of his head and a hand to his hat, he says to William and Oswald, “Let him live.”


	9. Chapter 9

 

And then he comes apart - or at least he tries to.

Oswald’s nervous, “Edward, where are you going?” as he staggers down the hallway goes unanswered.

All he can see is Kristen.

_She is still struggling . . . eternally struggling. Her eyes look so surprised as she looks up at her parents, helpless to help her, as Strange’s low, satisfied chuckle permeates the background._

_Edward can feel her little hand go limp in his and his heart breaks once again. And again. And again._

That very hand now smacks the side of a wall, trails down it as he slumps to the floor. He could barely hold it together long enough to take care of Strange once he had killed that boy. Cyrus had slumped forward himself, bewildered, not understanding. At that point, Edward could no longer watch. Cryus had expired without producing any of the white goo that could coalesce and bring him back into being.

Just a little press of a finger and the plug in the boy’s heart had popped, just like Kristen’s.

But had he really done it? Was that him? Had he really pressed the button that had ended that boy’s life?

And for what, exactly?

Edward draws his knees up to his chin even though it strains his leg just as much as dropping to the floor had. And then he leans into the wall, assuming an upright fetal position.

_It wasn’t me - I couldn’t have done that to Kristen’s -_

His hat threatens to tip off as he pulls even tighter into himself and his knees bump it. But he catches it, placing it in front of them as he buries his face and lets loose the tears he’s been holding back. His fingers can barely hold onto the brim, they are shaking so much.

“Please,” he whispers to personalities of his that are no longer separate, staring into the darkness, unable to bear what he’s done. All he can see is Cyrus’ young face and his own daughter’s merging in and out of each other through time - growing up in a different reality forged of different choices where they both might have had the chance to live full lives.

But, there’s no one to answer him. No one to split off from him. No headache heralding a switch. He can’t share the burden of his pain, his guilt, with his other selves because they are all one - singular. Now and forever. Thanks to Hugo Strange, he’s stuck with just one identity.

And a most painful one it is. 

Edward crawls into himself.

* * *

"Good god!”

Through the din of battle noises that have begun to fade, Edward barely registers Oswald’s voice.

“Edward! Edward!”

Both William and Oswald are shaking him. But he can’t see anything. He can’t move.

“He’s just been sitting here all this time?” Oswald asks in dismay.

“Yes, and he’s been rocking back and forth like this since my eyes first found him,” William answers. “They’ve been keeping watch.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Oswald asks, clearly exasperated.

“I was too busy, ahem -” William falters for a moment before continuing on, “- rescuing you.”

“Oh,” Oswald says quietly. 

Edward swears he can feel Oswald blush. His face is close enough.

After a pause, Oswald’s attention is back on Edward. “Why isn’t he responding?”

 _I can hear you, Oswald. Can’t you tell?_   

“Ozzie, I think we need to take him home.”

Oswald must have nodded in assent, because the next thing Edward knows he is swept up into the larger man’s arms. As they begin to walk, one of Oswald’s hands is on his back - while the other one carries his forgotten staff.

* * *

There’s a commotion out in the hallway. Edward can tell that he’s at the Van Dahl Estate now due to the familiar scent of his surroundings,  but he doesn’t know much else.

“What did you do to him, Oswald!?!” A woman’s voice demands.

There’s a deep rumble of a male voice, but no discernible words.

“Yeah, we’re not sure you should see him right now,” Oswald says clearly. “He’s not in any state to see you.”

“But, you called me up here,” she counters. “You didn’t send one of your golden cars to come get me for no reason, William.”

“Look, you’ve got more booze than blood in you,” Oswald reasons. “I’m not sure he needs -”

“Like Edward’s never seen me drunk before. He can handle it.”

Another rumble of a man’s deep voice can be heard.

Then there is a plaintive meow.

_Rex!_

Edward recognizes his meow immediately.

The woman answers, “I’m not afraid of a cat!”

Now there’s the soft roar of a panther.

“Oh!” The woman is startled. Startled but brave. After a tense minute, Edward hears her proclaim, “I’m still not afraid of your cat.”

And then he hears the door to his room crack open even wider and can feel her enter it. The way she disturbs the air is familiar. She’s the mother. The mother of the child he -

She sits down beside him and sighs, “Oh, Edward, what are we going to do with you?”

She takes his unmoving hand and he can smell her natural scent clearly, even though it's almost completely obliterated by the sharp notes of her body excreting the products of excess alcohol through her pores.

Once he fully recognizes her as the one he’s dearly missed, and not the one he’s afraid of, he relaxes his hand into hers and sighs with relief. 

Finally they can be together in their grief.


	10. Chapter 10

“Don't hate me," The Doc says.

"Never," Edward whispers, squeezing her hand. It's coming into focus. He's making his way back with her as his lifeline.

"I think I might 'ave drank too much," she says, pulling something out of her large black bag and placing it in his hands.

It's an empty bottle of hard liquor and it's clearly in focus now. No, suddenly everything is. Edward turns to look at the black fringe of hair she's using to hide her face from his gaze.

She's ashamed.

But he's alarmed.

"The entire bottle?!?"

She shrugs and frowns.

"Please don't tell me you drank the entire bottle," Edward says, squeezing her hand again in  a bit of a panic.

"Don't be silly," she answers. "It wasn't entirely full."

"How full was it?"

She finally looks up at him. One of her eyes is drooping and fluttering as he moves a fringe of hair off of her face gently. As his fingers brush her forehead, her cheek, he can feel how cold she's become. Ther alcohol's starting to hit her. Hard. He waits for her to answer, but she doesn't. It looks like she's about to pass out.

He gets up from the bed and helps her to get into it instead, propping her up into a seated position, before pulling a chair over so he can sit beside her and keep watch over her.

"Damnit, Doc, you've really done it this time,” he says under his breath. He runs his hand through his hair. “You could have alcohol poisoning.”

"MEOW!"

Edward turns towards the door to see William standing there in his ancient sheer night shift with Rex balanced on his crossed forearms.

The silver tabby jumps from his master's arms and runs over to pounce on Edward's lap. Edward strokes the cat in greeting and he immediately starts purring loudly.

"I think he wants to sleep with you two tonight," William says.

"You're not going to spy on us are you?" Edward says pointedly with a sour look on his face.

William lets out a belly laugh. "No, you're not Oswald."

Not funny. Edward's eyes narrow.

"Good to see you back," William says sincerely. Rex moves over to lay on The Doc's chest. "You know, I found Rex in The Narrows."

"Really?"

"Yes, he had been drowned, poor thing. Not yet fully grown."

Rex is now batting at The Doc, trying to rouse her into playing with him. Sleepily, she bats back.

"Yes," William says. "At times, he seems more kitten than cat."

“I can see that.”

“As I was bringing him back to life, I learned that he had desperately wanted to grow up to be one of the bigger cats in The Narrows so that the others wouldn’t push him around.” William chuckles. “I made sure he got what he wished for in death.”

Rex growls like a panther yet doesn’t change form. The noise is quite unsettling coming from such a small beast.

The Docs eyelids flutter and threaten to close all the way.

“Stay with me,” Edward says taking her hand. “Don’t fall asleep.”

“She’s too much into her cups,” William says. It is not a question.

“Yeah. I don’t suppose you’ve got some magical, mystical cure for that,” Edward says sarcastically.

“No, but she’ll be okay. I can tell.”

“How can you -?”

“She’ll be okay _this_ time,” William says ominously. “Keep her hydrated.”

“Meow!” Rex calls out to his master as The Pharaoh turns to leave the room.

“I - ugh,” Edward doesn’t manage to get a word out before William is gone. Instead, he growls resentfully at the now empty doorway. “Of course I’ll keep her hydrated. I don’t need you to tell me that. I'm not an idiot.”

* * *

It’s not until well after the dawn breaks and a night filled with many trips to the bathroom and even more glasses of water that Edward decides that The Doc is sober enough to try to have an actual conversation with. Not that she’s really sober, but she appears to have returned to her “functional” zone.

He holds a sleeping Rex in his lap as he asks her, “So, what happened?”

“What happened?” She chuckles. “I came here to ask _you_ that. It sounded like you needed me.”

“We’ll talk about that. . . ” Edward shudders a bit at the prospect. Admitting to her what he had done to Tabby’s child is going to be difficult. She’s Kristen’s mother after all. Mother to Strange’s other mutant -

“Edward!”

“Oh, sorry.”

“You drifted off there for a bit.”

He removes his hand from his pants pocket. Without thinking, his fingers had made their way to the remote he still carried from yesterday. The instrument of Cyrus’ destruction. Twin to Kristen’s.

“Doc, what’s with all the booze? How did that happen? Why did you decide to come back? How much did you drink yesterday? How’s Dini doing? Where is she while we’re both up here in Gotham?”

The Doc grabs her head, pretending - or perhaps not pretending - to be dizzy. “Enough, enough. One question.”

Edward sits back and lifts up a sleepy Rex to his chest. The cat’s head flops onto his shoulder as if in sleep, but his purrs are mighty.

“Only one, huh?” Edward smiles. “Okay, you pick it.”

“Okay, I’ll start with ‘Why did I come back?’ then. That’s the easiest one to answer. In fact, think you already KNOW the answer.”

“Because you guys thought I needed _you_ specifically,” he says, referring to all three that are inside of her.

“Yes, otherwise do you really think they’d let me out?”

“It wasn’t _them_ keeping you at bay,” Edward says firmly.

“Touché,” The Doc replies lightly, but she won’t meet him in the eye. “Anyway, they weren’t happy when I came back because the first thing I did was -”

Edward points to the empty liquor bottle he had placed on the dresser. “Guzzle that?”

She snorts. "Yeah.”

“How -?” He had been about to ask her how much she had actually drunk because the completist in him needed to know, but she offered other information.

“You know, I tossed that into my bag after dropping off Dini. Poor little thing was so distraught when I took her back to the orphanage to stay for a bit while I came up here. She thought I was giving her back, abandoning her, that I’d changed my mind. I couldn’t convince her otherwise. She kept asking about you, too. You know . . . because you’d been gone.”

Hearing that makes Edward’s heart lurch and he cuddles Rex a little tighter. He can feel Dini's utter terror, her desperation, remembering what it felt like when it happened to him. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Anyway, when Leslie got off the phone with Oswald, she lamented the fact that I wasn't around even though I was the best choice of the three of us to handle this. Lee volunteered, but then Leslie told her absolutely not. . .”

Internally, Edward sighs with relief. After what had transpired between him and Lee before he left, he lauded Leslie’s judgement. Lee was the last person he needed to see right now. He could still feel the imaginary slap to his face that had never happened.

“. . . so I had to come back. I wasn’t sure that Leslie was equipped to handle what little we understood of your situation. And Lee -”

“Yeah, thank you for that,” Edward says quickly.

“What happened there?” The Doc asks sharply.

Edward’s eyes go wide. “You don’t know?”

The Doc’s eyes look off in the distance over his shoulder and he knows she’s conversing with the others. Then she leans forward and puts a warm soothing hand on his cheek. A loving hand, not an angry one.

“Lee says she’s sorry. She didn’t kn -”

Edward jerks away from The Doc’s hand and abruptly stands up, accidentally dropping Rex onto the floor. He looks up at Edward and gives him a grumpy “meow.”

“Sorry Rex,” he says to the cat and then turns back to The Doc and says angrily, “It’s not about knowing anything. It’s about -”

“It’s about what?”

“Nevermind,” Edward stares at her with steely eyes. Eyes meant for Lee. He knows she’s listening, watching. “Don’t worry about it. Lee didn’t.”

* * *

At breakfast, Oswald and William keep leaning into each other at the other end of the long table to have little private conversations. They are punctuated by deep crinkles along the sides of Oswald’s eyes formed by sincere smiles and William’s trademark belly laugh - although a more subdued, quiet version. Occasionally they grasp one or the others’ hands excitedly to make a point.

“Do you think they realize they are doing that?” The Doc asks Edward.

“Doing what?” Edward asks puzzled.

“Telegraphing.”

“Huh?”

The Doc clears her throat loudly to get Oswald’s and William’s attention.

“So, are you two together or what?” she asks.

Oswald looks like he’s choked on something. William smiles softly and looks down at his plate. It’s the same self-conscious smile Edward remembers from the first day he encountered William coming from this very estate. He realizes that Oswald had gotten to him from the very beginning.

Oswald takes a sip from his glass and once he recovers his voice he says firmly, “No. But we are what we are.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

“And that is . . . ?” asks The Doc.

“Look, I’m still in love with someone else,” Oswald says firmly, knowing that everyone in the room knows exactly who he’s talking about. “And that’s not going to change.”

After that declaration, Edward doesn’t dare look at William’s face, instead he holds it steadily on his best friend. “Os -”

“Don’t say anything,” Oswald says, holding up a hand and rising to his feet. “We’re fine. We’re all fine here. Everything is status quo. The way I _want_ it to be.”

“I prefer status quo to quid pro quo anyway,” William says, hiding his teasing smile quickly as he lifts his tumbler to his lips.

Oswald closes his eyes and blindly swings a dismissing hand William’s way.

William just chuckles.

Oswald opens his eyes, turns to William, and hisses, “You know that’s not true.” 

“Not true enough,” William says, raising an eyebrow.

“Ugh!” Oswald sits down, frustrated. and fusses with the tails of his coat over the back of his seat and then reaches for his collar, putting everything back into place before he says quietly, “Willie, not here.”

But not quietly enough. Edward and The Doc can still hear him.

“Okay, Ozzie,” the large man says, surreptitiously placing one of his large hands gently over one of Oswald's smaller ones. “Okay.”

* * *

Edward and The Doc are headed to the pool house on a mission. She hadn’t been there since . . .

“What was all that about at breakfast?” she asks him.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? You’ve been up here in Gotham with those two. When did Oswald give in to his feelings for William?”

Edward stops walking abruptly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Wait.” The Doc is having a terrible time holding back a smirk.

“What?”

“Oh my god, Edward. Are you really that vain?”

“Are you making fun of me right now?”

“Oh, my god, did you think he would be in love with you forever?”

“Yes,” Edward says succinctly. “What’s so funny about that?”

“It’s not funny. It’s just . . .”

Edward crosses his arms waiting for her to continue.

“It’s okay to let people go, Edward," she says. "Especially if you don’t love them back.”

Edward purses his lips, remembering the time he spent with Oswald at that bar in Sandy Point when he realized something had happened between him and William. She had known nothing about it. He starts walking again. “I already gave him my blessing.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” But Oswald had refused to take it.

“Well then, I don’t understand,” She shakes her head. “Why did he make that declaration at breakfast?”

“He’s not going to let go of _me_ , Doc.” 

Edward realizes with sudden clarity that she will never understand him and Oswald - what they really are to each other, lopsided though it may be on the romantic front. The Doc, Lee, and Leslie will never get it. So he decides to keep his explanation simple. 

“He said he’s going to love me forever and I believe him.”

“Well, maybe you should _force_ him to let go of you. For his own good.”

The bitter thought can’t help but race through his mind . . .

_Yeah, and maybe you’re just jealous, knowing you'll never be able to feel that kind of undying love for me yourself._

“Not going to happen, Doc. I would never do that to my best friend.”

They’ve reached the pool house. Both of them take a deep breath as they stand in front of a sliding glass door.

She takes his hand. “Do you think the bar is still stocked?”

He groans and opens the door.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I had to post this a touch early . . .

“Edward, I can’t breathe.” The Doc grasps her chest upon seeing the familiar place. She seems overwhelmed.

Edward, hit with the same emotions upon seeing it in a new context - with _her_ \- has somehow fallen to his knees and his staff clatters across the floor. His leg hurts like mad and . . .

. . . just being with her - the mother of his child - in this place - is making him lose his mind.

His signature laugh has turned into an unrecognizable cackle.

It takes her a while, but eventually The Doc is able to calm herself and catch her breath. She joins Edward on the floor once she notices that he needs her help and tries to stop him from rocking back and forth as he laughs. 

She holds him tight, tries to soothe him. Gently she says, “Edward, your leg. That can’t feel good.”

The laughter doesn’t stop.

“Edward!”

Finally, it stops abruptly as he turns towards her. He gathers that he must have quite a strange expression on his face if her reaction is anything to go by.

“Mom, can I get twenty dollars? Does it look like I’m made of money? Well isn’t that what M.O.M. stands for?” Edward says in a rush.

“Wha -?”

“Why is a computer so smart? Because it listens to its motherboard. HA!”

“Ed -”

“What do you call a mom who can’t draw? Tracy!” 

He slaps his knee. His good one.

“What did the mommy broom say to the baby broom? It’s time to go to sweep!”

“Perhaps it is. We didn’t sleep at all last night, did we?” The Doc replies, laughing and joining in.

“Nope! Poor Rex. Okay, what did the baby Egyptian say when he got lost?”

“Fetch William?”

“Wrong! He said, ‘I want my mummy.’”

The Doc laughs a bit more. She can’t help it.

“Why did the baby strawberry cry? Because his mom was in a jam.”

“That’s actually kinda sad . . .”

He’s got one that’s even sadder and is more than happy to share it with her. “The only time your mother smiled when you were crying was when you were born.”

That statement was not true in his case - his mother enjoyed it when she made him break down. Immensely. Edward hangs his head, finally silenced, remembering. 

Then The Doc bursts out into sobs. And it brings him back to the present. Now _she_ needs him. Painfully, he comes down from his knees and finds a sitting position, pulling her into him.

“I never gave birth to any of my children. I never gave them life.”

“Shh. . .” Edward strokes her hair as her tears fall onto his shoulder.

“Now, I’m just an empty vessel.”

He winces, yet bites his tongue. She had made that choice, not him. Yet, he still finds himself saying, “I’m sorry.”

Surprised, she looks up. “For what?”

“I . . . I killed -”

“Who did you kill?” She looks slightly alarmed as he removes the remote from his breast pocket. He had kept it on him since he had used it on Cyrus.

“I killed your - your -”

“My child?” she asks.

He nods and looks down. She takes the remote from his hand and inspects the lettering. 

“Shiva.”

Edward tries to hold it together, but things are starting to blur again. Fade and blur. “I didn’t want to. . .”

The Doc places both of her hands firmly on either side of his face. “Edward, you did not kill my child.”

He shakes his head. “Yes, I -”

“Edward, listen to me.” 

Her voice is strong, but it’s fading away nevertheless. 

“You didn’t kill _your_ child either.”

That snaps him back into the present.

“Wha -?”

“You _didn’t_ kill Kristen. Judging by the name on this remote, you killed Tabby’s boy.” She holds it up for him to look at.

“Shiva,” he says, pulling it down into his hand.

“Yes. Shiva. The Galazean baby.”

“Cyrus.”

“Yes,” she whispers, tears in her eyes. “Oh, Edward, how could you have ever thought that you killed our baby?”

The expression on Cyrus’ face as the plug in his heart had popped. . . It had been identical to Kristen’s. Cyrus had also looked up at his mother for help even though she was helpless to save him – the same way his daughter had. And Tabby was the mother of one of Strange’s experiments - just like Lee was - and he had taken her child’s life, just like Strange had taken Lee’s. Exactly like. 

Edward tries to shake the memory of both children from his mind. 

“I don’t know.”

“If you didn’t want to do it, then why did you?”

_It has to be you._

“Oswald asked me to.” 

“Oswald?” The Doc’s voice is shocked. “Why that nasty little - I can’t believe he did this to you - I can’t believe he even ASKED that of you!”

“Look, he gave me a reason, but I don’t really understand why he wanted me to do it,” Edward looks down. “Not really. He should have done it himself.”

“I’m going to march over there right now and kick his ass!” Fuming, The Doc starts to stand up.

She’s serious.

Edward grabs her hand. “No, Doc. Please, let’s just do what we came here for.”

The look in his eyes deflates her in an instant. “Okay.”

* * *

Edward sits on the white wicker sofa in the pool house as The Doc searches various cabinets, wine glass in hand. He had tried to tell her that she didn’t really need a drink - especially because it was obvious she was still buzzed - but she had insisted she needed it to prevent a hangover.

“Have you found it yet?” Edward calls out to her.

“No,” The Doc calls from the bathroom. “But I know it has to be here.”

“Oswald has housekeeping staff you know. They could have -”

“We can’t be that unlucky.”

He chuckles. They’ve got to be two of the unluckiest souls in the world.

“Found it!” she exclaims and comes back to the wicker sofa to join him. She places the old suture kit they had used when they were last here on the glass coffee table in triumph.

“Excellent,” he says, rubbing his hands and leaning forward.

The Doc reaches down into her bag to pull something out. “Now, I told you he was in pretty bad shape -”

Edward gasps and brings a hand to his mouth. 

Pokey Bear is mostly a lump of stuffing, some fabric, and very little stitching. He’s completely lost his form.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Perhaps Dini gave him too much love?”

“Or perhaps we all fell apart,” Edward says morosely.

“Yeah,” The Doc says softly. “That’s probably what it was.”

Edward runs a finger behind her ear and pulls her in to kiss him. She sighs and Pokey Bear finds his way to the table as Edward plunges his entire hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, deepening the kiss as she arches against him. Her hands find his buttons and soon she has both his jacket and shirt off.

She pushes him back onto the sofa before she dips her head down to the top of his belt buckle just to tease him . . . and then she trails kisses all the way up from the fine strands of hair below his belly button all the way up to his heart.

He groans and pulls her back up to his lips - pulls her right on top of him. He is hard now. She smiles like the devil when she feels him move against her. Then her lips are rough against his, demanding, her teeth giving him little bites.

His hands navigate their way under her silken blouse and then down into her slacks to find the small of her back. She is so warm there. He pulls her pelvis into him as he grinds into her from below.

It’s not long before she sits up and begins undoing her own buttons. Halfway through, she stops and places her fingers on his belt buckle.

“Wait,” he says, knowing this is not what she really needs.

She tilts her head to the side quizzically.

“We don’t have to do this.”

“Really?”

She seems almost . . . happy.

“Yes. I love you, Doc. YOU. Not just your body.” He smiles shyly, feeling almost embarrassed to say what he says next. “Can we just hold each other?”

She collapses into his arms, and sighs with content.

And she doesn’t refill her drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mother jokes I reference in this chapter are from Jokes4Us.com! :-)


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

Edward and The Doc snooze so long they lose track of the time. They wake up a sweaty, sticky mess in each other’s arms.

The Doc finds herself laughing as she has to rearrange one of her breasts that had gotten stuck oddly in her blouse due to the humidity. “Check that out.”

“I am,” Edward says naughtily. “It’s areola appreciation day.”

She picks up a white arm pillow from the sofa and chucks it at him. “You.”

“Me,” he replies, smiling devilishly.

The Doc shakes out her hair and runs her fingers through it while Edward re-buttons his shirt. Then they both fully sit up and look down at the coffee table.

“Ready to put Pokey bear back together?”

“Yeah. Poor thing.”

* * *

“You know, Edward, what Strange did to us wasn’t 100% bad.”

“What are you talking about?!”

"There’s always some good that comes out of every situation.”

“And what good came out of ours!?!?” Edward asks, alarmed, setting down the mostly patched up Pokey Bear. He wonders if this is still The Doc he’s dealing with. She sounds more like Lee. His heart begins to race.

“Well . . . if his manipulations -”

“Raising us from the dead, you mean.”

“Yes, that,” she agrees. “If that hadn’t happened, Little Eddie never would have existed and you -”

“Where are you going with this?” Edward interrupts, even though he pretty much knows the answer.

“Well, without Little Eddie, you would still have more than one personality. He was the catalyst that integrated you.”

“Lee, I think you need to understand something -”

She gasps and puts a hand on his forearm. “Wait. . . How did you know it was me?”

He pulls his arm away like a reflex, only in slow motion. She looks disappointed at the dissolution of their connection.

“Edward, I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what?” he practically growls.

“Look, I wouldn’t have raised my hand in anger like that if I had known -”

“Known what?” His tone is just as nasty as before.

“That it would affect you like this.”

He snorts in disbelief. “My reaction isn’t the problem.”

“Than what is?”

“That you would so easily hit someone you supposedly loved.” Edward stands up from the sofa, grabs his staff, and starts pacing in agitation.

“I wouldn’t -”

“YOU WOULD!” He shouts, pointing a finger at her.

“Okay, Edward, I’ve had just about enough of your nastiness -”

“Oh! You’ve had just about enough of MINE?” He scoffs.

“Look,” Lee counters. Her voice is level but firm. “I was angry but I didn’t hit you.”

“But you wanted to.”

“Reflexively, yes. But I -”

The sliding glass door swings wide open, letting in some cool evening air. The stuffiness of the pool house dissipates almost immediately.

“Well, hello there, friends!” Oswald says. “Did you sleep the day away in here?”

“Kind of,” Edward replies.

“Well, I take it you’re staying for dinner then, which is being served momentarily." Oswald waves. “Come along.”

“Gladly,” Edward mutters. When he pushes past Lee he says quietly, “It better be The Doc or Leslie who joins me at the table. I’m not having YOU as my dinner companion.”

Without saying another word, he leaves her standing there and catches up with Oswald. 

* * *

It’s The Doc that ends up accompanying Edward to dinner that evening. Oswald offers her a very rare vintage of red wine before the meal is served - everyone knows she loves red wine – and yet she struggles, giving Edward a lot of side glances. He takes her hand under the table. He knows that this is her decision to make - even though the other two must be pressuring her -  and he doesn’t say anything.

Tentatively, almost as if asking a question, she turns it down.

Edward squeezes her hand and leans in, his warm lips brushing her ear as he says, “You’ll be fine. Your body has been without alcohol long enough while you were away that it doesn’t need it anymore. And I can help you get through the rest - I promise.”

The Doc pulls away in order to draw his face to her lips and then she kisses him gently.

“Oh, YUCK!” Oswald protests, still standing at their end of the table.

The Doc and Edward then watch as a flustered Oswald returns to the other end of the table where William awaits him. The Doc smirks as she watches him, a mischievous glint to her eyes. Martin doesn’t have a big enough stomach for a full three course meal, so he isn’t scheduled to join them until after appetizers - a fact that obviously doesn't go unnoticed by The Doc. As soon as Oswald takes his seat, she stands up and immediately starts undoing her blouse.

“Would you care if Edward and I gave you a show right here, Oswald?”

“On my DINNER TABLE?” Oswald exclaims.

Edward panics and stands up, hissing at The Doc, “WHAT are you doing?”

“What’s wrong with a little show?” The Doc challenges Oswald, ignoring Edward and sauntering down to the other end of the table, continuing to unbutton her blouse even further. William and Oswald shrink away as if burned, mockingly putting up their hands to shield their eyes as if they’ve been blinded.

Edward is frozen in shock. What the fuck is she doing?

When she gets to the end of the table, Oswald slams his fist down and declares, “I will NOT bear witness to some sick and twisted hetero sex show on the table where I eat my food!”

“Why not?” The Doc asks casually before she leans into him and says, “Maybe then you can see with your own eyes why it will never work out between you and Edward.”

Edward is now recovered enough to speak. Or so he thinks. But when he opens his mouth, he only produces dry, gravelly mutterings.

“You’re a shitty friend, Oswald,” The Doc sneers.

“What are you talking about? I would do anything for Ed -”

“NO!” The Doc yells, pointing a finger in his face and towering over him even more, her tits threatening to shake loose. William gets to his feet.

“Please put those things away,” Oswald says in reference to her breasts, a look of disgust on his face. “Do you have no decorum?”

“Fine.” The Doc grabs both sides of her blouse together with one hand and says to him, “But you and I both know that you would never do _anything_ for Edward.”

Oswald just sputters, refusing to admit to any such thing.

“How many times have you betrayed him?” The Doc demands.

“That’s between me and Edward.”

“Is it?” she taunts. “Think again. I know firsthand that you are a devious little bird who takes advantage of everyone in your orbit. And I’ve had just about enough of you taking advantage of my husband!”

 **Husband**? All the men are shocked by her words, but she doesn’t seem to even notice the slip. She just keeps going even though Edward has now made it to her side and taken her elbow, a gesture meant to slow her down. But he had frozen at the word “husband.”

“He killed Cyrus. FOR YOU,” The Doc exclaims. “Do you have ANY idea what that did to him?”

_“It has to be you.”_

_Please don’t ask this of me!_

_“For my mother.”_

_Edward wants to cry._

_“Fine. I’ll do it. For_ **_you_ ** _, Oswald.”_

Oswald looks up at Edward and gulps, looking guilty as hell. 

“I’m sorry, Edward.”

Edward just nods with an odd grimace on his face. He looks like someone trying to hold back tears, but that’s not exactly what’s going on. He’s remembering it all. Everything.

“You know I didn’t mean to hurt you . . . I -” Oswald starts before Edward puts up his hand to silence him.

“Never mind that. Just remember, I know who you really are, Oswald," he says, cold as ice. "Deep down inside."

“What does that mean?” Oswald’s blue eyes dart in confusion.

“You always think of yourself first, no matter who you claim to love,” he replies. Oswald starts to protest, but Edward, his anger finally rising, leans in and says nastily, “You would let Jeremiah torture your own mother if you thought it would give you an advantage.” 

“Why you -” Oswald finally bolts to his feet, ready for a fight. He tries to punch Edward in the face but William is able to restrain him before his fist makes contact. 

“Ozzie, no. You don’t want to do this,” the larger man warns.

“See what you’re entangled with William? Your little ‘Ozzie’ here is as slippery as they come.”

“Oswald has been 100% loyal to me from the start,” William says firmly as his eyes shoot daggers at Edward. “Since the beginning.”

“Wonder how long that will last,” Edward replies snidely. 

“He could have done what Jeremiah wanted him to do and betray me,” says William. “And he didn’t. I quite think it went the other way.”

Edward grinds his jaw. Jeremiah’s proffering of Cyrus’ remote wasn’t necessarily a peace offering, a bargaining chip in exchange for William. Deep down, Edward knows that it was meant for him. To torture him. After all, Jeremiah went through great lengths to give it directly to him, not Oswald. He must have known that Oswald would make him detonate it and kill the child so much like his own.

“You’re a terrible friend, Oswald,” Edward says coldly before addressing his best friend’s other, more current ‘friend.’ “Watch your back, William. He’ll tell you he loves you with one face and destroy you with the other. Sad thing is, he believes what he says.”

“OUT!” Oswald shouts. “I want you two out of my house NOW. And frankly, Edward, William and I have this little war handled. We won’t be needing any more of your help.” 

Oswald gives him tiny little dismissive waves with both of his hands.

“Against Jeremiah you won’t be needing my help? At all?” Edward scoffs. “I find that hard to believe.”

“There’s really nothing you could bring to the table that William doesn’t already possess,” Oswald says with his chin up, briefly touching Edward’s lapels before pulling away, looking smug. “Now OUT!”

Unexpectedly, Edward feels jealous. Suddenly, he doesn’t care for the idea of William supplanting him in Oswald’s life.

Then out of the blue, the doorbell rings.

“Are we expecting anyone?” William asks Oswald. Edward bristles at the use of his term ‘we.’

Oswald’s eyes narrow. “No. We're not.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Hold up,” Edward whispers to The Doc as they head down the hallway to their room. Quietly, he leads her back to an alcove where they can spy on Oswald and his unexpected guests.

“Jim,” The Doc whispers from behind Edward and he stiffens.

She places soothing hands on his shoulders and says quietly, “Nothing to worry about there. I’m just surprised he’s here is all.”

Edward relaxes under her touch, but lets in a startled breath of his own when he sees who’s come along with Jim Gordon to the Van Dahl Estate.

Lucius Fox.

His body starts to tingle with excitement. Something is afoot. And he knows with certainty that Foxy is here for **him**.

Goody.

* * *

Leslie pokes her head into Oswald's office as Edward is rummaging through some of his files.

“Hey, um, weren’t we supposed to have left by now?”

“Not necessarily,” Edward says succinctly. “I need to do something for Oswald.”

“WHAT?! You’re going to help Oswald even after all that mess in the dining room?”

“Well, it isn’t _just_ for Oswald.” 

_I know Edward Nygma is behind this, Penguin. It’s got his signature all over it._

_He’s not even IN Gotham, Lucius. Have you even seen him? How do you know he’s still alive?_

_I’ve heard rumors. . . And I’m pretty sure he’s working for_ you _._

_Phah!_

“I’m going to send Lucius Fox and Jimbo down a rabbit hole.” Edward says with glee, sporting a gleaming grin at the prospect of besting Lucius. 

Leslie can’t help but laugh along softly with the insane laugh that follows.

But then she says in all seriousness, “Just so you know, Edward, I’m worried that the temptation of booze is still too strong for The Doc.” 

“What do you mean? She resisted it at dinner.”

“That doesn’t mean she still didn’t want this.” Leslie pulls a $2000 bottle of bourbon from her bag, courtesy of Oswald’s private liquor cabinet and places it on his desk. “She stole this while you weren’t looking. I think you need to keep an eye on her unless you’re okay with Lee coming out instead because I don't intend to let this body to get drunk again. I am so over it.”

Edward doesn’t know what to say, so he decides not to answer her at all - he just tucks some of the files he had been working with in a place that he can access later and says, “Hey, you want to help me out? I need to find some of the property deeds for the Wayne Estate to take back to Beachview.”

“Sure. Where should I look?”

* * *

How had he not seen it before? It was camouflaged, yet still . . . green and purple. Insanely disguised to match its surroundings, yet once seen, it couldn’t be unseen. It could be booby trapped.

“Leslie?”

“Hmmm?”

“I need you to leave. Now.”

“Wha -?”

“Now,” Edward says firmly, his eyes squarely on the message that could have only come from Gotham’s resident Joker. “Please.”

“Sure,” she squeaks, a little terrified once she understands the situation. Placing a hand on his arm and giving him a kiss on the cheek she says, “Be careful.”

Once she’s gone he exhales and examines the almost three dimensional message. Where can he open it that’s safe?

It doesn’t matter - It suddenly pops to life. But what triggered it?

The “letter” opens up its wings to reveal a tiny screen below.

The screen displays a triangle before Jeremiah’s voice declares, “Ah, the triumvirate!”

Then there’s a swirl of three heads. Oswald’s, William’s, and Edward’s.

“Who’s allegiance was broken, Penguin? The Pharaoh’s or the Riddler’s?”

Now Jeremiah himself is front and center. With a certain little harlequin dancing around in the background. . .

“Who did you HURT? Who did you BETRAY?”

The sickening curdle of Jeremiah’s voice only reinforces what Edward had feared. Cyrus’ remote was meant for him. And now he knows why. He slams the desk in frustration. “Dammit!”

“Not so easy taking Gotham without both of your trusted men -” Jeremiah laughs at that “- now is it? But what is trust anyway? From what I hear, it’s in quite short supply at the Van Dahl Estate these days.”

Jeremiah snaps his fingers and Ecco stops dancing to come forward and stand by his side.

“If you want to win, Penguin, I suggest you be more like me. My followers are utterly devoted,” Jeremiah looks up at Ecco. “Aren’t they darling?”

Ecco nods and bends down to kiss him. Jeremiah reaches up to pet her. Edward shivers in utter revulsion.

“I’ll find out soon enough which one of your allies fell from your good graces, Penguin. And then the war will truly begin. Because now you are WEAK!”

As Jeremiah’s psychotic laughter gets louder and louder, he leans into the camera so far that he is now out of focus - not much more than one white glob. In a way, it reminds him of Cyrus. 

And then the entire device blows up. 

But Edward is not hurt. And the papers he had set aside are safe. They’re the medical records from the facility he had been incarcerated in as a child. He takes them and leaves.

* * *

“Oswald, we need to talk,” Edward boldly strides into Oswald’s bedroom as he’s preparing for bed. The panther-size Rex is lounging on his pillow. He can’t believe he has to do this.

“I told you to go home,” Oswald snaps. “I don’t even know why you’re still here. Do I have to have you thrown out?”

Edward reaches out to touch his shoulder. “Oswald, you need to listen to me. Our rift was orchestrated.”

“What?”

Edward produces what’s left of Jeremiah’s greeting card. Mainly ash, some paper, and melted plastic. 

“It blew up,” Edward says casually.

“I can see that,” Oswald replies. “But can you please tell me what IT is!?”

“Jeremiah left you a little message - in your office -”

“What were you doing in my office?”

Edward puts up a hand. “Oswald, we need to focus on what’s important here.”

“And that is . . . ?”

“Jeremiah was trying to break us. Our allegiance. The ‘triumvirate’ he called it.”

“That’s why he gave you the remote? Because he knew I’d end up messing things up with either you or William?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, Edward, I’m so sorry for that -”

Edward puts up a hand. "Please don’t fuss about that anymore, Oswald. I accept your apology and I’m sorry about dinner tonight.” 

He gives Oswald the briefest of hugs.

“That’s it?”

“Yes,” Edward says curtly. “So, moving along -”

“I will never understand you, Edward Nyma.” Oswald shakes his head, yet he is beaming. “But this is great. I accept.”

“Again. Moving along,” Edward says firmly. “I have no idea why Jeremiah thinks I’m important to your war.”

Edward waits for Oswald to enlighten him. After what he had said about William at the dinner table, Edward really wants to know if it’s true that he’s redundant to their little operation or if that was just said in spite.

Oswald doesn’t enlighten him.

"Anyway,” Edward says after a brief pause. “You guys can’t look weak. None of us can ever give any indication that there’s strife between the three of us - or that there ever was.”

Oswald puts out his hand. “Deal.”

Edward shakes it and says grimly, “I just don’t want to see you hurt, Oswald.”

And it's true, despite their recent hostilities.


	14. Chapter 14

Oswald had graciously granted them another night at the Van Dahl Estate, so Edward and Leslie get settled back in the guest room.

“I hope you don’t mind that it’s me tonight,” she says. “I haven’t been in charge of my body in a while and I’m usually -”

“It’s fine,” Edward says.

And it is - until he starts to dream.

_Kristen is floating in her tank, her beautiful mermaid hair behind her. He’s so proud of his little girl and reaches up his right hand for her to match. And she matches it with one, two, three, four - ALL of her hands._

_Unfortunately, when he reaches up with his left hand,_ **_it_ ** _comes into his field of vision._

_The remote._

_Labeled ‘Kali.’_

_To his horror, before his very eyes, his thumb presses its sinister button._

_And now his baby is pulling in hard breaths on her respirator. But it is all for naught. She turns blue before she goes still and turns -_

_“Ed, what have you done?” Lee shrieks. “Our daughter! What were you thinking?”_

_She pounds on his chest as she cries, while he just stands there numb, taking her assault. It ends with her falling into him, clinging to him, racked with tears of defeat._

_But when she pulls away, she wields the face of his mother. “Come Edward, we need to take you to the hospital. Let the doctors take care of you.”_

_As he takes her hand, he notices that she towers over him now. All he can really see is her longish red hair and a plaid skirt. The skirt is eye level._

_“Come.”_

_There is no vestibule this time. He goes straight into the kitchen and witnesses unspeakable horrors. He flees, but is caught._

_As punishment, the baker holds him up by his ankle over a gigantic boiling pot. He’s being steamed as two other men look on, laughing._

_“Please no, it’s too hot,” Eddie says, wiping sweat from his brow._

_“Well, it’s about to get hotter!” the baker snarls and drops him into the pot._

_As he sinks to the bottom, a multitude of painful blisters breaking out upon his searing skin, he hears one of the men taunt from above, “Hot enough for you?”_

_But once he gets to the bottom of the tank, he finds himself immersed in goo. Healing goo. He knows it's the goo his daughter would have turned into had she ever had the chance, and he lets her wrap about, consoling him, cooling him, healing him._

_He can’t help but wonder . . . Could she have cured him of whatever had ailed him in childhood?_

He wakes up in a pool of cold sweat - totally drenched. Frantically, he sits up, wipes at his wet face, and then grabs his glasses.

She’s up with him in an instant. The Doc.

She wraps her arms around him to steady him. “Breathe, Edward. Just breathe. Everything’s going to be okay.”

He shakes his head adamantly. “It’s not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t split anymore!” Edward sounds like a desperate man. Because he is. These nightmares are going to continue to be be relentles, he just knows it. He’ll never get over the grief of losing his child, his guilt at killing -

“Wait? Why is having just you in there - whole - a problem?”

“You and I are different, Doc. You want to integrate, understandably - but I’m regretting it. Not that I had a choice in the matter.” He twists his lips into a frown. 

“Regretting it how?”

“When Strange introduced Eddie into my system, he picked up all the broken pieces of my childhood, showed them to me, and allowed me to merge. But I’m not so sure that’s a blessing - I’m haunted by everything - I remember _everything_ now. And the newer it is, the worse it is. Kristen, Cryrus, you . . . my personality won't split to funnel away the pain anymore.”

“Wait. Me? What about me?”

“The choice you made after you lost our second baby.” He looks at her pointedly.

“Oh.” The Doc looks down at her hands.

She’ll never understand. She can’t. Edward ducks his head and clucks. “You and Lee.”

“What about Lee?”

_Edward sees her hand come down to slap his face, sees the red trails his mother’s hand leaves behind on his father’s face._

Edward’s eyes snap shut as he recoils with the imagined hit. When it comes to Lee, he’s still having trouble separating himself from his father.

“Hey.” The Doc jostles him. “What’s going on there? Could you please explain why this stuff with Lee is bothering you so much?”

“No,” Edward whimpers, crumpling into himself, pulling away from The Doc. “No.”

Suddenly he feels like a child and just weeps, rocking himself into a little ball. He can’t take how similar Lee seems to his mother. It hurts too much.

“Why, Edward?” The Doc whispers. Her hand is on his back.

“He still loved her,” Edward says unwittingly as all the times his father had kissed his mother, entertained her and her friends, and capitulated to her flash through his mind. His father had loved her so much that he had chosen his wife over his own son.

Edward’s tears come even faster now as he realizes that he still loves Lee and probably won’t be able to stop loving her. The thought is so terrifying that he begins to shake. He doesn’t want to be abused again. He wants to leave that in the past.

"Come here," the Doc whispers gently.

She pulls his head onto her lap and strokes his hair.

“Edward, you’re such a mess over this.” She leans down to place a kiss on his brow. “But, I love you. So much. Will you let me help you get through this?”

Edward nods, finally feeling like a child should feel in a mother’s arms. Loved. Secure.

And he’s so bitter that he never felt that growing up. 

* * *

Somehow her comfort leads to his need to connect with her and he sits up in her arms, probing her lips with his own to see if she feels the same way. After a final kiss, he places his forehead upon hers and sighs.

They just pause like that for a moment.

Then he reaches up to stroke her hair and when he reaches the end of it, she guides his hand lower.

And lower.

She wants him, too. But he takes his time, savoring every part of her with his fingertips and then his lips. By the time he enters her, she lets out little moans of frustration because he only gives her an inch at a time. And very very slowly.

Their love making is soft, passionate. Not their usual.

It’s what she needs.

It’s what he needs.

* * *

As they lay in bed, The Doc says, “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“It’s about Lee.”

Edward goes a little stiff in her arms, but manages to say “okay” anyway.

“She’s crying.”

Edward lifts his head from her chest. Softly, he says, “What?”

“She misses you. She really does.”

“Doc, I can’t.”

“I know,” she replies and puts his head back down. “I know. It’s okay.”

He can’t believe he’s going to say this, but he does.

“I still love her.”

The Doc hugs him tighter and kisses the top of his head.

“But that’s all I can give her right now.”

“Understood.”

His mind goes back to the botched dinner they had with Oswald and William. The complete disaster. . . the one with the Freudian slip. He looks back up at her.

“Hey, Doc, why did you call me your husband?”

“What?”

“At dinner.”

“I didn’t do that.”

“Uh, yes, you did. We all heard you, but were too busy fighting to call you out on it.”

“Oh,” she says, blushing. “Now I remember.”

“So what was that?”

“Um. . .” She tucks a part of her lower lip between her teeth before continuing. “I guess I like to. . . um. . .”

Edward raises an eyebrow.

“Look, to be perfectly honest, when I disappear for a while I have these fantasies -”

“You do? YOU?”

She bats his shoulder playfully. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to marry you. I promised.”


	15. Chapter 15

_“I feel so safe when I’m in your arms,” Lee says dreamily, curled up in Edward’s. She’s so warm. “Did you know that?”_

_“You do?”_

_“Yes. It’s like we’re in our own little world and it makes me feel like together, no one can hurt us.”_

_“Who do we need protection from?”_

_“Ourselves.”_

Edward awakens with a start. The sheets are wet with his sweat yet once again.

Lee, or The Doc, or Leslie - he can’t tell - sits bolt upright in bed beside him. She’s sweating too.

Then she switches, placing a hand to her forehead briefly against the pain.

“Sorry about that,” The Doc says.

“What?” Edward asks.

“Leslie, didn’t mean to let her out.”

So, it was Lee who had woken up beside him. Interesting.

“No problem.”

* * *

“What’s that smell?” The Doc asks, wrinkling her nose. She and Edward hadn’t finished getting ready for the day yet. They hadn't even started packing to go home.

“It smells like it’s coming from outside,” Edward says, and whips open the curtains.

“Are those bodies?” The Doc asks, staring at a burning pyramid on the lawn near the pool that looks to be made out of . . .

“Yes, I think they are,” Edward says. “Let’s find out what’s going on.”

As Edward and The Doc make their way out to the lawn, the wind changes direction and they are suddenly blasted with smoke. It is putrid. They both possess a high tolerance for the smell of human remains, but this stench is still almost unbearable. It’s different.

“Oswald!” Edward calls out and the man heads toward them through the grass and emerges clearly through the smoke.

“Shh,” he says as soon as he arrives, and shuffles them over to the patio, away from the overpowering smoke. “Please, now is not the time, he’s  . . .”

Oswald looks over at William, the Pharaoh, his mighty shoulders deflated, standing in front of the pyre as more and more bodies are added to the top. Buttermilk zombies.

“William’s in mourning for the ones who were sacrificed during our battle with Jeremiah. His connection to each and every one of them is broken and he -” Oswald stops himself. “It’s just . . . now is not the right time for visiting - you two should just go back home. Quietly.”

“Will do,” Edward says and watches as Oswald finds his way back to William and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. Oswald nods as William turns to him and then falls into his arms.

Oswald holds him close as he cries.

A stab of pain jerks its way through Edward’s heart. Oswald had done almost the same thing with him after Isabella had died - except Edward hadn’t cried. All his tears had dried up with Kristen’s death. He hadn’t any left to mourn her.

“What is it?” The Doc asks.

“Isabella,” Edward hisses, his eyes narrowing at Oswald. 

The bitterness courses through him, black and insidious - that bitter ire that only Oswald had ever been able to rouse in him. He knew that the comfort Oswald offered to William was real, yet when he had offered the same thing to Edward, it had been disingenuous. Oswald didn’t care about his pain - he was the cause of his pain. He had killed Isabella himself.

“Let’s go home,” The Doc urges, putting her arm through his. “I’m so ready to leave this godforsaken place.”

“Yes. Let’s.”

It finally sinks in that Gotham will never be his home again. Watching William and Oswald continue to cling to each other, it is now crystal clear that it hadn’t been for a very long time.

Edward decides that Gotham will just be his playground from now on - a place for him to play his deadliest games. The city of deception and lies is in for a real treat.

* * *

As Edward and Leslie sit in the golden car on their way back down to Biotech Bay, he finds himself relaxing finally. The South is a place where he can be his best self - the man he’s always aspired to be - strong, powerful, confident, with people in his life who love him - who appreciate his genius and flair. Lee had always seen that man inside of him, the one she knew was there all along. Now he wonders if she had somehow seen a glimmer of his merged self. But she couldn’t have. Back in The Narrows, he had been broken, only ever showing her one piece at a time. Ed or The Riddler.

Right then and there, Edward makes the decision to leave what he can of his dark side in Gotham and focus on who he wants to be in The South. He thinks about what roles he might want to take in the lives of The Doc, Lee, Leslie, and Dini, trying some on. Husband, Soulmate, Friend . . . Father. 

As he watches Leslie skim through a magazine she had brought with her, one leg crossed over the other, he takes note of her mannerisms and realizes something.

“Leslie?”

“Mmm?”

“You’re not a teenager anymore are you?” She hadn’t been rebellious in a while - among other things.

She shrugs.

“What does that mean?”

She puts down the magazine. “How am I supposed to know? My body isn’t going through any changes - it never has.”

“What about your mind?”

“My mind?”

“The adolescent brain -”

“Wait, let me guess. You’re going to give me a data dump about the prefrontal cortex and rational thinking, aren’t you?” She purses her lips.

“Well, yeah -”

“Save your breath, Edward. According to current scientific thinking, I’m younger than 25. Still irrational as hell.”

Edwards lips quirk up. “So, that means you still don’t find me irresistible?”

Leslie practically looks down her nose at him then picks up her magazine again. “Definitely not.”

That stings. But only for a second. “Yup. Definitely irrational.”

Leslie sticks out her tongue at him and he can’t help but laugh.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a couple days late everyone! I've been dealing with multiple medical issues.

The Doc pops her head into Edward’s study early the next morning and notices what’s on his desk.

“Oooh, medical records. Do you need my help deciphering that?”

Edward slams the folder closed on his own medical records and then files them away expediently, his heart racing. “No, I’m good.”

The Doc cocks her head to the side. “You sure?”

“Fine, yes.” Not fine. No. But she of all people can’t know that. “Just stuff for Oswald.”

“You’re forging medical records?” The Doc asks, placing a hand on her hip and raising an eyebrow.

“No, not that.” Definitely not that. “I’m uh . . . changing the names on the records.”

“Okay.” She seems to buy that. “So, we’re going to get to see Dini again at school today and hopefully take her home with us. I wonder how that’s going to go?”

“Depends,” Edward answers. “How did you leave it with her?”

“Poor thing - she was clinging to me and screaming at me not to leave her, not to abandon her,” The Doc says. “The headmistress had to pry her off of me eventually - I didn’t really want to let go either - and no amount of assurances that we’d come back for her even registered with her. She was so distraught.”

As he listens, Edward’s heart aches for Dini. And he thinks of the boy he was once. If only his mother hadn’t wanted to let go of him . . . 

“Did you tell Dini when you’d be back?”

“Of course not. I had no idea what was really going on with you - how much time that would take. But I promised her we’d return and take her back home with us.”

A sick feeling grows in Edward’s stomach - children need specifics, not promises. No wonder Dini hadn’t trusted the assurances she’d made. Of course she thought they'd grown tired of her, wanted to be rid of her. You can't just drop a kid off at an orphanage with some vague promise to return. A vague promise is no promise at all - not for something like that.

“She’s going to be pissed.”

“You think so?” The Doc asks.

“Yeah.”

* * *

Edward is setting up the auditorium for rehearsal that afternoon when he gets a call from Lee.

“Well, you were right. Dini’s not happy.”

“Lovely.” Edward sighs as he places another script on the table where he’s arranging them alphabetically. ‘Edwardine Rankin’ it says. They should all be off script by now - these are only for their reference should they need them. Dini hasn’t touched hers in ages.

“She broke into the TB wing.”

“What?” Edward’s hand pauses.

“Yeah, broke quarantine protocol and everything - just marched right in. And just when I thought I had this situation under control -”

“Why would she do that?”

“To get back at me.”

“Obviously,” Edward says. “But what what was her excuse?”

“To visit Lila.”

“Lila?” That’s curious. Why would she want to visit the girl who used to have her part - even if it was just an excuse to get Lee in trouble?

“She’s six,” Lee says. “When you’re that age, friendship exceeds the bounds of common sense.”

“They’re not friends.”

“No?” Lee asks. “They looked pretty chummy to me. Something must have changed.”

Curious.

The door at the side of the stage bursts open and tons of kids barrel in. Lee can hear the noise over their connection. “Good luck with her today. Like I told you, she’s in a bit of a mood.”

“Noted.”

“Oh, and it probably goes without saying, even though I think there’s a low risk of her catching anything from Lila at this stage, but if you notice her showing any signs -”

“Got it,” Edward replies. “I gotta go.”

As soon as he’s off the phone, he’s peppered with questions from the little girls:

_“Why were you gone?”_

_“Where did you go?”_

_“Did you go to Gotham?”_

_“Were you committing crimes with The Penguin?”_

_“Ooh, what about The Pharaoh?”_

_“Did you almost die?”_

Edward notices that Dini is slumped in her usual chair, facing away from him. She emits a “Huh!” and an odd little jerk when she hears that last question.

He walks over and asks her softly, “Do you have any questions you’d like to ask me?”

“No,” she says so quietly he almost can’t hear her.

He puts a hand on her shoulder and says, “Okay.”

She still doesn’t look at him.

He starts rehearsal.

Before Dini takes the stage _,_ she inexplicably picks up her script of _Paradise Lost_ from the table. Edward is perplexed because he knows that she has every last line memorized and she couldn't read that much anyway. But he soon finds out why.

“Dini, the audience needs to see your face.”

Two green eyes peep over the top of her script. “Will this do?”

“No,” Edward says patiently. “Lower.”

Now a nose.

“Dini . . .”

She pulls the script all the way down and facing away from the audience, begins her lines.

“Dini,” Edward says once again. “Entertaining as this is, the audience needs to see your face.”

“Why?” she counters. “I’m talking to Eve. She can be behind me, here.”

Dini reaches out to the girl playing Eve, changes the blocking, and starts up her lines again.

“Dini, can you come to the front of the stage please?” Edward says, crossing his arms.

She comes forward and sits down cross-legged at the front of the stage, her script completely covering her face again. Edward approaches her slowly and they talk in whispers. The other girls are curious and remain silent, hoping for a chance to hear what they say.

“Hey, Dini, what’s going on with your script here?”

“I don't want to look at you!”

“Okay, but you shouldn’t deprive the audience.”

That should have elicited a chuckle, but instead it only elicits silence.

“Okay,” Edward changes tactics. “Why don’t you want to look at me?”

“Because I’m mad.”

He could have figured that one out.

“Because you got sick.”

“Because I got -?” What?

“Doc Thompkins said she had to leave because you got sick and then neither of you were around and then -” Dini starts hyperventilating.

Edward puts his hand on her back. “Breathe, sweetheart, breathe. Nice and slow. Deep breaths.”

After a while, her breathing calms enough so that she can just cry softly. Edward has been shielding her from most of the other students so they can’t see what’s going on. He calls out to them, “Time to take a quick intermission. Everyone outside. It’s a nice day.”

Once they’re all gone Dini wipes her eyes and says, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“Of course.”


	17. Chaper 17

“It’s odd having a weekend without Dini here,” Leslie muses as she drinks her coffee at the kitchen table.

“It is,” Edward agrees, nodding over his newspaper. “Whatever are we going to do with ourselves?”

“I have half a mind to head out to Driftwood Island, march right into her dormitory, and drag her out myself,” Leslie grumbles.

That wouldn’t be wise. “Sounds like you need some more coffee.”

“I’m not as addicted to the bean as Lee is.”

Edward raises an eyebrow in doubt, not that she can see it with the newspaper blocking his face again.

“Or The Doc for that matter, with her alcohol,” Leslie says and sets her mug down. Leaning forward, she says, “Please tell me you’ve noticed she’s drinking again already. Little nips here and there from her stashes.”

“I have.”

“It’s your fault, you know.”

Edward puts down the paper and looks her squarely in the eye. “Why?”

“She started feeling neglected by you as soon as we got back here. She finally opened up to you about all the grief she’s been holding inside and you’re pulling away from her, after you just promised -”

“What? How can she possibly think that?”

“You’re keeping something from her.”

“Oh.” That. Edward lifts up the newspaper again. That information will never be shared.

Leslie pulls it down. “What is in that file Edward? We already know it’s a medical file. Don’t you need our help?”

“Since when are you a doctor, Leslie?”

“I’ve been learning.”

Edward gives her a doubtful look.

She returns it with a hard stare. “We know it’s your file. ‘Edward Nygma.’ The Doc saw it with her own eyes.”

“How?” Edward narrows his.

“You weren’t fast enough putting it away.” Leslie reaches out and puts her hand on top of his. “Please Eddie, we know that you were sick as a kid. What happened? What are you keeping from us?”

Edward blanches when she calls him Eddie. She knows. Of the three of them, Leslie knows the most. She knows about the guard and the knife - even though she can only guess as to what had truly happened to him. But no matter what, he won’t let any of them know that his own mother discarded him.

“No,” he chokes out and then bolts upstairs before Leslie can utter another word and slams his office door behind him.

* * *

He’s had the file out for a good twenty minutes, trying to make heads or tails of it. What in the world had made him sick?

Nowhere is there a diagnosis, just many many notes on symptoms - some Edward can’t even make out. But when he looks at the dates, occasionally he remembers quite vividly why certain notes had made it into his chart in the first place. . .

_The day after his intake, one of his sickest_

_The first day he had been trapped in the kitchen_

_. . . and subsequent ones_

He slams the folder shut and puts it in his locked file drawer. He’s smart, but he’s not an MD. He really does need Lee or The Doc to help him figure this out, perhaps offer him a reason he had been so sick when he was young. And most importantly, he needs to know if it is something that will come back and possibly kill him -  or if it is over.

Sighing, Edward removes some of the other files - property deeds from the Mayor’s office, most of them Wayne properties. He needs to make some changes . . . help the Fox find the rabbit hole.

After carefully erasing or covering up some of the signatures that he needs to, Edward hangs the various papers up to dry and sits back down at his desk with steepled fingers.

Thinking.

No, feeling.

He shakes his head, wishing things had been different for Dini - that she was here right now instead of hurting and alone. It’s so easy to visualize her holding onto Lee tightly, not wanting to let go. . .

_A red and gray plaid skirt swishes by. “Mommy!”_

Edward squeezes his eyes shut. He had been a good boy, a strong boy. He had let her go.

But Dini hadn’t.

Edward looks back up at the papers, touches a few. They will take a while to finish drying. He heads to Kristen’s bright yellow room, finding Pooky Bear cuddling the almost-all-back-together Pokey Bear on the twin bed and some of Dini’s things that had unintentionally been left behind. It’s a sad testament to a girl who is dearly loved, but no longer there.

Lee had had no intention of casting Dini off - and neither had he. And it was time she knew it.

Edward opens the vanity drawer and removes the remote - Kristen’s remote. Then he goes downstairs, puts on his hat, and heads out to Driftwood Island.

* * *

Edward finds Dini in her room alone, even though all the other children are outside playing on this warm afternoon. According to Jean, most of them are out by the water looking for baby squid. The native species on Driftwood Island and the nearby shore grew fast, even for squid. Their total lifespan was less than one year and they were currently in the juvenile stage. But squid season - when they were large enough to fish - would be upon them shortly. Just one more season . . .

Edward raps on her doorframe. Dini tells him to come in without tearing her gaze from the window.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey,” she says forlornly.

“I brought something for you.”

Now she looks at him.

He pulls over a tiny chair from one of her roommates’ desks, turns it around and sits down in it, facing her.

Dini can’t repress her giggle, even though she tries. “You look funny.”

“Do I?” he asks, pressing his glasses up his nose and pulling on his lapels.

“You look like a praying mantis.” More laughter.

“Is it because my knees go up to my ears?” He’s definitely going to need to use his staff to stand back up.

“Yes. You’re too tall.”

“And you’re too small.”

They both smile and enjoy the silence for a bit.

“I miss Beachview,” Dini says and the tremble in her chin is unmistakable.

“I know, sweetheart, that’s why I came.”

“But I’m not going back,” she says stubbornly and crosses her arms. It’s what she had told the headmistress when he and Lee had first returned. Although it had been a bit perplexing to them at first, they were hoping everything would go well once she saw them again the next day. Which it hadn’t.

“You don’t have to go back. Not if you don’t want to,” Edward says.

He fishes for the remote in his pocket, finds it, and places it into her hand gently.

"But won't you allow me to tell you a story?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my friend Skittle479, who unlike Edward is actually an MD. ;-)


	18. Chapter 18

“Kayley?” Dini asks, looking at the label. “Callie?”

“It’s pronounced ‘KA-lee.’”

“KA-lee. Okay.” She frowns and hands the remote labeled ‘Kali’ back to Edward. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“I don’t know if I want to hear your story.”

“Why not?”

“Ugh,” she groans and slumps in her seat. “Why do you always ask all the hard questions?”

“Okay, how about I answer one that you might have?”

“Okay.”

“Doc Thompkins didn’t make it clear that we had every intention of bringing you back home with us, did she? That the orphanage was only babysitting you?”

Dini bursts into tears and shakes her head.

Edward puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Staying here was only meant to be temporary. Very temporary.”

“Everything’s temporary!” Dini squeaks through her crying. “Beachview, here, the social workers, even my MOM!”

Edward can’t promise that staying with him and Lee in Beachview will be a permanent thing either. He and the three personalities inside of Lee hadn’t ever had a serious talk about taking this little girl in. Not really. And the way things have been going with Lee . . . He wants to promise Dini stability . . . but he can’t. He can only promise her love and understanding.

“Hey,” Edward says softly. “I understand what it’s like to be cast adrift.”

Dini stops crying and wipes her face with her sleeve.

“My parents left me at a place similar to this, remember?"

Dini bobs her head in assent.

“I had no one else to look out for me for the rest of my childhood. But you have us, if you want us. Doc Thompkins and I love you very much.”

Her tears start up again but she leaves her chair to come over and hug him.

* * *

Edward and Dini find their way down to the beach where the other girls from her dormitory are looking down into the water, searching for baby squid and squealing whenever they see one. A rapid-fire cacophonous mess of a exclamations always seems to ensue regarding what colors they had seen on the squid. At some point or another Edward had heard them call out every color imaginable. The squid they’re finding must be rainbow colored.

Edward and Dini find chairs underneath an umbrella. The season is turning hot, and even brighter than before. Dini swings her legs in the chair for a while, but eventually turns to Edward and says, “Okay, you can tell me your story now.”

“Alright,” Edward says. “Once upon a time, there were two villains in Gotham that had lost their way and were doing some good for a change -”

“Uncle Oswald and Uncle William?”

“No. But they’re definitely villains. Good call.” Edward chuckles. “Who do you think the two villains were?”

Dini scrunches up her face in thought. “Hmm . . . well, one was you, of course.”

“Of course.”

Dini shakes her head. “I really don’t know any other villain from Gotham. It’s sure not Martin.”

“No, it’s not Martin, you’re right. He’s a good boy,” Edward says. “No, the other villain was Doc Thompkins.”

“No, it wasn't,” Dini replies. “She’s not a villain.”

“You’re right, she’s not any more,” Edward says even though he knows her dark side still lurks within each of her three personalities. “But there was a time that she was a villain - back when she was the Big Bad Queen of The Narrows.”

“She was a queen?” Dini’s eyes go wide.

“Yup,” Edward replies. How had this child been sheltered from all the sensational news about the two of them? Lee had always been referred to as “The Queen of the Narrows in the news. “But like I said, she had lost her way. Even fallen in love with another Big Bad of Gotham.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s not evil. To love someone.”

Edward smiles softly. “No, it’s not.”

“So what happened?”

“We died.” 

Dini gasps. “Does that mean you guys are . . . Zombies?” She whispers the last word.

“Yes and no.” Edward knows her familiarity with the term comes from William’s buttermilk zombies. “We’re not Uncle William’s creatures. We’re no one’s creatures.”

“What does that mean?”

“We were resurrected by an evil scientist, who goes by the name of Professor Strange, but he l doesn't control us.”

He shudders at the thought.

“That’s strange.” Dini giggles.

“Excellent pun. You’re very good with words, Dini.”

She smiles with satisfaction. Words are her favorite thing.

“Now, you know who baby Kristen is, right?”

“Yes. I like her yellow room. It’s pretty.” Dini looks sorrowful for a moment. “I’m sorry she’s gone.”

Edward almost winces at her unexpected words of empathy. He reaches out to pat her hand. “Me too, sweetheart.”

Then he takes a moment to turn away and wipe at the corners of his eyes. When will this end? It’s like a fresh knife to the heart every time.

Once he composes himself and steels himself to tell the story he wants to tell, he turns back to the little girl beside him.

“Baby Kristen came to life in a very unexpected way.”

“Really?”

“Yes, she was extracted from Doc Thompkins’ womb -”

“Womb?”

“It’s where mommies carry babies while they are growing inside of them.”

“And what does ‘ex-tra-ta-d’ mean?”

“Extracted?”

“Yeah, that one. Extracted.”

“It's a fancy way of saying to remove or take out.”

“Ooooh. I like that one!”

“Good. It's a pretty big word for a six-year-old.” Edward smiles. “Anyway, Kristen was extracted from Doc Thompkins' womb while she was still dead, before she was resurrected.”

“Creepy.”

“Quite so,” Edward agrees. “And that evil Professor Strange performed horrible experiments on her. Both before she was born and when she was just a little baby.”

“‘Experiments?’” Dini asks. “That’s another ‘ex’ word!”

Edward wants to make sure he explains this part correctly for Dini - without getting too choked up about it. What Strange did to his child still makes him angry. He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“Professor Strange changed her. He wanted to make her into his very own monster - but what he tried to do to her hurt her.”

“Oh no,” Dini says.

“Yes. He performed multiple surgeries on her. You haven’t had any of those, but you do have an idea of how much they can hurt, right?”

“Yes.”

“In the end, Professor Strange made Kristen into something very different than she was supposed to be.” Edward takes another deep breath. “When Doc Thompkins and I found her, she was swimming in a tank - and she had four arms.”

“Four?” Dini asks in awe.

“Her hair was very long - mermaid-like - and black like yours.”

“I’ve seen mermaids.”

That’s unexpected. “You have?”

“Out at Sandy Point, during the annual surfing competition.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, under the pier.”

“Interesting.” Edward  wonders if that’s a myth or her imagination - or both, and keeps going. “Well anyway, poor baby Kristen’s tongue also stuck out, so it was difficult to feed her. And she tried to talk but -”

Nope, he can’t make it. He starts to choke up.

This time it's Dini who puts her hand upon his. “It’s okay, Mr. Nygma. I know you miss her very much.”

And that opens the floodgates.


	19. Chapter 19

“Watcha guys doing out here?” Lee asks, coming up to Edward and Dini’s beach chairs and sitting cross-legged in front of them in the sand under the umbrella.

How did she find them?

“I figured you went out to Driftwood Island today, Edward,” Lee says, answering his unasked question. “And when I got here, Jean told me that you two were down here with the ‘squid patrol.’”

Dini laughs at Lee’s name for the gaggle of girls still searching for baby squids in the water. “They’re so shiny. And have so many colors. But I’ve already been down here today - before Mr. Nygma even came to see me. I saw purple and indigo and sky blue and emerald and magenta and orange and peach -”

Lee laughs. “That many squid, huh?”

“No, just two of them,” Dini says and shrugs.

“Well, that sounds like two very colorful baby squids,” Lee says.

“They were. They all are. And shiny too - kinda like silver, but with a bunch of colors. But each one is different, you know?”

“Yes,” Edward says. “No two alike.”

“Not ever,” Dini says adamantly. “Just like people.”

“And snowflakes.”

“What exactly _is_ snow? The girls from Gotham talk about it . . .”

Before Edward can answer her and get lost in a tangent, Lee asks, “What were you two up to out here, if you weren't on ‘squid patrol?’” 

“Mr. Nygma was telling me about Kristen.”

“Oh,” Lee says, becoming quite still.

Edward studies her downturned face. It's so obvious that she’s hurting so much. It’s the first time he’s truly felt anything except rage and a deep-seated fear within himself in her presence in quite a while. “It’s okay, Lee. I can stop.”

“No,” Lee says, and lifts her head, her fringe of black hair swinging back from her face. “She should know so that she understands . . .”

She leaves the phrase hanging for so long that Edward has to ask, “What, Lee?”

“What's going on with us,” Lee replies. “I don’t want to be unfair to her anymore.”

Dini looks a little panicked and sits upright in her chair. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Edward says to her. Then he asks Lee, “Should I continue?”

Lee nods.

“Okay, where were we?” Edward says. “Oh, yes. I was telling you everything that Strange had done to baby Kristen.”

“Yes,” Dini said quietly.

Edward turns towards Lee before he says carefully. “So, it’s probably time I told you how we lost her.”

Silent tears start streaming down Lee’s face. 

Dini gets out of her chair to kneel beside her in the sand and just as the little girl reaches out to her, Lee says, “No, it’s okay, Dini. I’m okay. Go back to your chair.”

Dini shoots Edward a puzzled look. But he just nods at the chair and she returns to sit in it.

“Okay. Now Dini, remember I just told you about Professor Strange?”

“Yes. He's the one who wanted to make Kristen into a monster?”

“Yes,” Edward confirms. “Well, Doc Thompkins and I rescued our baby girl from his clutches. We villains are nothing if not protective.”

“That’s good,” Dini says.

Lee sniffs.

“And we had her with us at Uncle Oswald’s estate - in the pool house.”

“His pool is so big it has a house?”

Edward chuckles. “More or less.”

“Wow.”

“We were there with baby Kristen -”

“What did her bathing suit look like?” interrupts Dini.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, if you guys were in the pool’s house, you must have been swimming and her bathing suit must have looked different because she had four arms.”

Surprisingly, Lee lets out a little chuckle through her tears. “I would have liked to see that, Dini. But we weren’t swimming. The pool house at Oswald’s is _beside_ the pool.”

“Oh!” A sudden light of understanding shines in the little girl’s eyes. “Okay. What happened in the pool house?”

Lee looks up at Edward. He nods.

“Sweetheart,” Lee says, not really holding back her tears as she explains. “We were holding Kristen - trying to change her - get her out of her soiled pinafore because we had just fed her. She had such a difficult time eating and not making a mess.”

“Because of her tongue?”

Lee looks back up at Edward, seemingly surprised that he had told her that detail for some reason.

“Yes, that’s exactly right.”

“Anyway, we had her in our arms,” Lee’s voice caught, but she took a deep breath to get through it. “And she started turning blue. She was breathing but she wasn’t getting any oxygen.

As a doctor, I should have been able to tell what was wrong with her - Why couldn’t I? - but as a mother I just panicked. Our baby girl died in our arms!”

Dini starts crying along with Lee.

Edward takes out the Kali remote again and says gravely, “And this is why.”

Lee looks at it briefly, then she turns her head away as if she’s been burned just from looking at it. But Dini wipes her eyes and takes it.

“Kali,” she says, the tears on her fingers making it slippery in her hands. “But how?”

Edward continues the story once again. “Professor Strange had installed a plug between two chambers of Kristen’s heart -”

“I didn’t know hearts had chambers!” Dini exclaims.

“They have four,” Lee says dully.

“Like Kristen’s arms.”

A mournful sob breaks free from Lee. “Edward, I’m sorry, I can’t -”

“It’s okay. Go,” he replies.

Lee gets up and heads towards the shore. Edward and Dini watch as she just stands there, looking out into the vast emptiness of the sea as if she’s waiting for something to come back to her.

“Is she going to be okay?” Dini asks.

Edward sighs, trying to think of a way to answer her. He decides on the truth. 

“I don’t know, kiddo. Doc Thompkins has been through a lot and she’s broken right now.” He feels a tightness in his chest as he decides to admit one of his fears to the little girl. Softly, he says, “I’m not sure she’ll ever be fixed.”

“That’s sad,” Dini says.

“It really is,” Edward replies somberly.

“But why is she broken? Is it just baby Kristen? Or . . ?”

Smart kid. She knows something more is going on with Lee.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Always,” Dini says proudly. 

“Of course you can.” Edward smiles. “You’re still keeping mine. Thank you.”

Dini smiles back at him with a wide toothy grin.

“But this is one of Doc Thompkin’s secrets this time.”

“Then why are you telling it instead of her?”

“Because it hurts her.”

“Huh?”

“That’s why it’s a secret - it’s not because she’s hiding something, but because it hurts her to talk about it. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” Dini says. “But that’s a weird reason to have a secret.”

“It’s an adult thing.”

“Okay.” Dini shrugs. “I promise I won’t say anything.”

“Good,” Edward says with a nod. “I think you should know that Doc Thompkins has been a mother three times - or at least almost a mother three times - but that she’s lost all of her babies.”

Dini looks horrified.

“And it’s really hard to lose a child.”

“That’s so sad. Poor Doc.” Dini looks down and says glumly, “It’s really hard to lose a parent, too - even if they’re mean to you.”

A tightness grips Edward’s throat and his vision blurs with the tears that he’s suddenly fighting. He manages to get out a whispered, “Yes.” And in that very moment, he hates his mother even more for making him feel this way.

“But Dini, there’s more you need to know.”

“Okay.”

“Because of all the heartache that losing her babies has caused her, Doc Thompkins doesn’t want to be a mother.”

The little girl looks stricken. “Are you sure?”

Edward nods solemnly. After all, she _had_ sterilized herself. The message was pretty clear.

“But what about you? Don’t you ever want to be a father?” Dini asks meekly, cringing in her chair as if waiting to be rejected.

“Actually, yes, I do,” Edward replies and the little girl relaxes some. Not that it will ever happen.

“I really thought Doc Thompkins wanted a little girl in the house.” Dini pouts. “She sure made it seem that way.”

“Doc Thompkins is going through a lot of things right now, sweetheart. We lost Kristen less than a year ago. I think she’s been confused.”

Tears well up in Dini’s eyes. “Did she think I was a replacement for Kristen? Cause I’m not!”

“No, sweetheart, I don’t think so.” Edward says. “And you’re not a replacement to me either.”

“I’m not?”

“No. No one can take Kristen’s place. But I’ve got room in my heart for another.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I'm taking a month-long hiatus with this fic. It will resume the first week of December, though not necessarily on Monday. Stay tuned!


	20. Chapter 20

Dini had left to go back to the dormitory. Edward looks out onto the sand. Lee is still there, her arms crossed as she walks through the surf, letting the warm water flow over her toes without really noticing it. She keeps her gaze on the horizon. Looking for something.

But she’s not coming back.

Not Kristen or any of her other babies.

Edward pushes himself out of the chair and arduously navigates the sand, staff in hand. By the time he gets to Lee, she has stopped walking – she’s just standing there, looking out at the water. She must have heard him making his way towards her. Her chin lifts as he comes up behind her.

Wordlessly, he puts his arms around her. Encircling her, he places his head on her shoulder, his gaze following hers to the deep blue sea. Teeming with so much life.

“Aren’t you angry with me, Edward? Afraid maybe?” she asks him bitterly.

“No. Don’t ruin the moment,” he says, not wanting to think about that right now.

“Why? It’s not going to last,” she whispers.

His heart squeezes tightly at her words, knowing she’s right.

That night, they find themselves seeking comfort in the dark. Lee lay within the sheets of their bed naked, which he discovers upon pulling them back to get in himself. She rolls over to him instinctively, tucking herself into the hollow beneath where his shoulder and his arm meet. It just feels right.

Holding each other skin to skin, eventually their lips meet. Softly at first, and then more passionately. Edward breathes down her neck to her collarbone, where he leaves a trail of light kisses that make her moan.

It’s not long before they find themselves in a familiar place – stoking each other’s fire. But their cries of ecstasy that night are fringed with sorrow. A shared loss. And a deeper loss than Edward can even fathom.

The Doc resurfaces just as Edward is drifting off and heads downstairs for a drink.

* * *

When Edward meets Lee downstairs for breakfast the next morning, he smells her before he sees her and is confused for a second.

“Doc?”

“Nope. Just me,” Lee says, about ready to pour herself some coffee. The scent of alcohol is even stronger when she speaks. “She just left me in this state and took off.”

“What? Why?” Edward asks as he sits down at the breakfast table.

“Jealousy,” Lee says and shrugs. “As usual, she somehow thinks you care more about my feelings than you do about hers. It's getting old." Lee turns her attention back to the coffee pot. “I made extra. Want any?”

“No, thank you,” Edward replies. “I’m good.”

“Why not?” Lee asks, exasperated as she tosses the coffeepot back into the coffee maker. “Do you still think I still have cooties or something? Even after night?”

“Lee –”

“Edward, you’re pissing me off.”

“You know, yelling at me is not going to remedy that.”

“I’m not yelling!” Lee takes a deep breath to calm herself and waits a moment before continuing. “This is not how I meant to start this conversation.”

Her tone makes Edward nervous. “What conversation?” 

“Edward, I know you think I’ve been callous.”

“Callous?”

“When it comes to Dini - or rather you - and the experiences you’ve had being bullied.”

Edward sits up straighter, while simultaneously looking down and adjusting his glasses.

Lee takes a seat beside him. “Look, Edward. I’m a medical doctor. I’ve had to learn to stay somewhat detached from my patients’ suffering. I HAVE to. Look what happened in The Narrows when I lost perspective? It doesn’t mean I don’t care . . . I’ve just - I’ve learned my lesson. And I’m not turning a blind eye to Dini, I’m not downplaying what’s happened to her, I’m just -”

“Just what?” Edward challenges, looking up at her again.

Lee places a hand on his gently. “Edward, I never went through the same things that you did growing up - so you’re right, I can’t understand.  But I want to. Please talk to me . . .”

Edward removes his hand. A pained look flits across his face as he recalls what he said that almost made her strike him. How he had thrown her ignorance in her face. And how she reminded him of her own suffering . . . yet stayed her hand.

He flees the room.

* * *

Before Edward rounds the corner to the auditorium to begin rehearsals, two girls - undoubtedly a couple of Clarissa’s old pals - are talking loudly to the group of kids waiting to be let in. Apparently, the day he had dumped Clarissa into the garbage can in front of her peers hadn’t been quite enough to stop this kind of thing entirely.

“Hey Dini, what did your mom do for a living?” the first one asks.

There’s a round of catcalling and other disrespectful noises from some of the girls. Dini doesn’t answer - the second girl answers for her.

“She worked in a bar,” she declares triumphantly. “In Sandy Point.”

Many - but certainly not all - of the girls laugh at that. The words 'Sandy Point' are always said as if the place alone is something to be ashamed of.

“Yeah, but was Dini's mom serving the drinks or just drinking them?” the first girl asks. 

More laughter erupts - peppered with snickers this time.

Edward rounds the corner, a fierce look on his face. He can’t tell which of the girls had just been talking about Dini’s mom, so he just claps his hands loudly and tells all of them to follow him, making it clear that he’s not happy with the situation he has just come upon. A few of them look sheepish and avert their gaze, saying, “Sorry Mr. Nygma.”

Dini doesn’t look like she’s in much of a forgiving mood and glares at all of them, holding her book bag tightly to her chest and lifting her nose in the air as she passes them by to enter the auditorium first.

At least Dini’s showing a strong face and not giving anything away that those sharklets can use to further humiliate her. Perhaps they will grow tired of picking on her and eventually find somebody else to work out their aggression on. Edward sure hopes so. He also hopes that one day she’ll be able to make another friend besides Martin, who’s all the way up in Gotham and not around to play with on a regular basis. He doesn’t for a second believe she’s actually friends with Lila like Lee does. Dini must be very lonely at the orphanage. Like he had been at the facility.

* * *

After everyone else has left rehearsal, Dini comes up to Edward with a deep pout on her face and tells him that he was right - she was a fool to ever think that Lee wanted another daughter. He notices that her chin quivers right before she looks down.

He gets down to her level and takes her hand. “Hey -”

“I went to go see Lila - to see if Doc Thompkins would let me into her room - but instead she took me aside and told me why she left for Gotham - why she left me here in the orphanage. She told me what was wrong with you.” 

Dini gulps back a sob as Edward nods. “I was very sad after I took revenge on Professor Strange for killing our Baby Kristen. I suddenly had these memories -”

“Of all the bad things,” Dini finishes for him.

“Yes.”

“And so you got sick - unable to move and stuff - and Doc Thompsons had to go up to Gotham to doctor you.”

“Something like that, yes.”

“But unlike you, she just - she just doesn’t have any room in her heart for another daughter. She misses Baby Kristen.” Dini gulps back some tears that she tries to talk through. Her voice comes out in squeaks. “She doesn’t want me. I would make her too sad. I just know it."

“Perhaps she doesn't have any room now . . ." Edward says carefully and gives the little girl a hug. “But you know, some people heal in time.”

Dini shakes her head vehemently as she pulls away from him. “But some people don’t. My mommy didn’t. She only got worse and worse.”

“Doc Thompkins isn’t your mother.”

“I know,” Dini says with a sigh. “But I worry about her anyway.”

“I do, too, sweetheart.” Edward stands back up. “Perhaps you should come back to the house with me today.”

“Why?” she scrunches up her little face as she looks at him.

“Because regardless of what Doc Thompkins and I have been through - and the healing we need to do - we both still care about you immensely and we miss you.  It would mean the world to us if you came over today.” Edward’s eyes twinkle with mischief as he bends over and says enticingly, “We could work on some forgery . . .”

“I don’t know,” Dini replies, grabbing her elbow and swaying from side to side.

“I’ve got letters from Martin . . .”

“You do?” Her eyes are like saucers. Edward almost laughs. She hadn’t expected that.

“I do.”

“Hmm. . .” She adopts a look of serious concentration, even bringing her thumb and forefinger up to her chin to stroke it. She really is quite the little ham. After a moment she says, “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Great.”

“But only for Martin,” Dini insists with a pointed finger.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Edward smiles and places a loving hand on her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that took a little bit longer than I thought it would (a half a week longer) . . . But this fic will start posting weekly again. Stay tuned!


	21. Chapter 21

The Doc returns to Beachview a bit later than Edward and Dini and comes up to his study to say hello to them. They appear to be working on forgeries together.

“No!” Dini contradicts. “Invisible ink. See?”

She holds up a piece of paper that appears to be blank.

“I see,” The Doc says. “Or rather, I don’t.”

Dini beams as Edward places a hand on her shoulder like a proud father.

“I’m going to be just like Mr. Nygma someday,” Dini says. “He knows all these cool tricks. Someday, I will know them all too.”

“Well -” Edward starts. 

“He knows way too many things, doesn’t he?” The Doc says.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Edward asks her.

The Doc just responds with a wink, apparently in better spirits. Must be Dini’s presence back in the home. Perhaps she’ll lay off the booze for awhile.

“So, Dini,” The Doc asks casually. “What did your mother do for a living?”

Edward goes white. From behind Dini, he starts motioning across his neck, signalling to The Doc to cut off this line of questioning. Today is not the day . . . not after those girls at school had just teased her about it.

“She went to a bar.” Dini shrugs.

“She poured drinks there?”

“Yup,” Dini says with a nod and returns her gaze to the blank piece of paper, apparently unfazed. But Edward’s not so sure. She’s no longer looking at The Doc.

After an awkward pause, The Doc says jovially, “Guess I will too, then.” 

“No,” Edward mouths and shakes his head, panicked. Today is REALLY not the day for her to pull this kind of thing. They’re so close to getting Dini back into their lives - she’s just starting to trust again.

“Yes,” The Doc whispers back a bit angrily and leaves the room.

Dini remains focused on her paper, pen in hand. She’s been making marks with it, pretending not to hear their exchange.

“Doc -” Edward says. He strides for the door.

“Please don’t go.” Dini’s voice is forlorn and Edward turns back to see her sad face. "Please? I want to tell you a story."

* * *

“It’s the story I’m telling Martin, here.” Dini points at the page of dried, now colorless ink. “With your invisible ink.” 

She starts to write again and the ink is a light yellowish brown before it fades. Edward watches her write, “This is what happened at Jilt Beach.”

It takes forever. She's only six. 

“Sweetheart, why don’t you just tell me and then you can go back to writing your letter to Martin.” Edward is a bit worried about what The Doc may be doing downstairs. With their liquor cabinet.

“Sure!” Dini says, and tells the story. 

_An evil hag - a master of potions - had a son but she didn’t want him. When she grew bored tormenting him, she gave him over to the sea urchins, but being a human boy he didn’t really fit in with them and was miserable._

_But then one day, her son found a princess - one who wanted him for her own. He wasn’t used to being wanted and fell deeply in love with her, proposing marriage right away._

_It wasn’t until the day before the wedding that the evil hag discovered what had happened. He was happy and it made her angry because she hadn’t been happy since the day he was born. She worked up a potion to remedy the situation._

_As the princess was preparing for the wedding, a gift arrived for her. The bottle said it was a perfume - a present from her groom. She eagerly put it on and then went out to the beach - Jilt Beach - to wed him._

_Now she was a daughter of Poseidon and his strong presence was felt in the sea that day. He created a glorious spectacle of waves just for his daughter’s nuptials all along Jilt Beach. Everyone was excited to attend the royal event and marvel at the waves. The beach was packed._

_But as the princess came down the aisle, her groom suddenly screamed._

_“Nooooo!”_

_He shook at the mere sight of his bride._

_She looked just like the hag, his mother._ _"_ _It can’t be. Please, no.”_

_“Darling -?” the confused bride started to reach for the man she loved, but he panicked, picked her up and threw her into the ocean as the wedding guests just stood there, gasping in shock._

_“NO!” He screamed at her, “I can't believe you tricked me like this. You don’t love me. You never have.”_

_The princess only sputtered in response, trying not to drown as he held her down in the waves. But it was in vain._

_The entire wedding party heard his final scream as her final breath was sacrificed to the ocean, “Damn you, MOTHER!”_

_Then Poseidon’s first devastating wave hit, killing the groom instantly and taking out more than half of the guests in his rage._

_As the soaked survivors scrambled up the rocks to safety, they heard the evil hag’s cackle, saw her circle above them in the air and say, “That’s what you get for trying to be happy.”_

_Ever since then, Jilt Beach has been haunted by the souls of those who were killed there - the most famous being the jilted bride, who can sometimes still be seen wandering around confusion and throwing dead sea urchins up onto the beach. People wonder if she’s just trying to find her lost love - or if she’s planning to take vengeance upon him when she does. But, he is never anywhere to be found._

_Poseidon has deemed the place of his daughter’s shame off-limits, especially to lovers._

_It is an unlucky place._

“So, what do you think the moral of the story is?” Dini asks Edward.

“I’m not good with morals," Edward laughs at his own joke. "But if I were to guess -”

“'Trust your heart,'” Dini interrupts with an emphatic little nod. “The groom’s eyes deceived him.”

Edward can’t help but think that’s what’s wrong with The Doc - she’s not trusting her heart. He really should go downstairs and check on her.


	22. Chapter 22

“Please don’t go,” Dini implores one more time as Edward tries to go downstairs to check on The Doc. Her eyes glance fearfully towards the door.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Edward asks.

“It’s your turn to tell me a story,” she says with fake brightness.

“Okay,” Edward says, trying to think of a short one.

“Tell me how you got revenge.”

“What?”

“Tell me what you did to that mean professor. That mad scientist guy. To protect Baby Kristen.”

“Baby Kristen was already gone, Dini. It wasn’t for her protection.” 

“Okay, but what did you do?”

Edward hesitates, thinking that this story isn’t for a child - but he doesn’t hesitate for long - instead, foolishly he dives right in.

* * *

“And then, I turned him into a buttermilk zombie!” Edward exclaims and claps his hands together. He’s so lost in bragging about his part in taking down Jeremiah’s operation as he exacted his own personal revenge on Strange that he doesn’t notice that Dini’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “He was in thrall to me. He would do anything I told him to. Even kill hims -”

“Hey there, Sailor.”

Edward’s eyes flick to the door and he’s instantly pulled out of his recollection. The Doc is leaning against the doorframe, having adopting a sexy, if uncoordinated pose. She’s wearing a racy red dress and impossibly high heels to match. She holds a brandy snifter in her hand. 

“Doc, what are you doing up here?” Edward asks warily. This is definitely not the time. “I’m having story time with Dini.”

As The Doc saunters over to Edward’s desk precariously, the look of fear on Dini’s face only intensifies and she cringes away from her. As The Doc walks, she trips over her own heels and spills a bit of her drink on Dini’s shoulder. 

“Oops, sorry,” she says casually.

Dini springs away as if she’s been burned.

Then she starts yelling at them in a fast, high-pitched squeak that is barely comprehensible.

Edward is able to make out “YOU ARE A VILLAIN” as Dini’s finger points at him accusingly, but he can’t make out any of the words she says to The Doc, they are so impassioned and peppered with tears.

Both of them are so stunned that before either of them can react, the little girl runs out of the house.

Once the gravity of the situation hits Edward, he goes to the window . Looking out at the dock he sees Dini pleading with Miles. The good man nods and leads her to his boat. Dini has clearly chosen to go back to the orphanage over staying with them. Edward stands there for quite a few minutes, his fists clenched. He can hear the veins in his temples pulsating.

He turns around to face The Doc.

“You. . .” His voice is deep with menace, a dark growl.

“What?” she asks casually and downs the rest of her drink.

“You’ll probably need another one of those,” Edward sneers. “When you sober up and realize what just happened here.”

He stalks out of the room and heads for the dock, planning to sail over to Driftwood Island himself as soon as Miles returns.

* * *

Edward is barred from seeing Dini by the headmistress. “Now is not a good time for you to see her.”

That’s for sure. “Look -”

“It doesn’t matter what you say happened right now, Mr. Nygma. All that matters is that the girl has obviously been traumatized by something from her recent visit to your home. I don’t think you - or Dr. Thompkins - should have any contact with her for a while. I’m suspending rehearsals of _Paradise Lost_.”

“What?”

“It’s in the best interest of the child. And that’s my foremost priority as headmistress. The well-being of all of these girls.”

“Of course,” Edward says glumly. 

Of course, he doesn’t want to upset her anymore, but he wanted . . . what did he want, really?

The answer comes to him quickly, like it always does. Answers. He wants answers.

“Can you tell me more about Dini’s life before she came here to Driftwood Island?” Edward asks calmly, quieting his mind in preparation to discover things he knows will only make him furious. He needs to start with a clean slate so he doesn’t explode. He knows this girl’s been hurt and he realizes that he never knew the complete story - her reaction to The Doc’s drunken demeanor had been quite extreme - and unexpected.

“Certainly,” she replied. “What do you want to know?”

* * *

Edward is quiet on the boat back to Beachview. Miles’ chatter stops when he realizes the foul mood his passenger is in. And it doesn’t get any better when he arrives back home.

“Doc?” he yells up the stairs after he takes off his coat and puts his hat on the rack by the door, taking note that she doesn’t appear to be around.

“Up here,” he hears her reply in a lazy, slurred voice.

“Lee?” he asks as he makes it to the landing, realizing that it was not The Doc who had answered him, hoping that it hadn’t been Lee.

Turns out it hadn’t been.

“No, Edward. It’s me,” Leslie says.

“I need to speak to The Doc. NOW,” Edward’s nostrils are flaring.

“No. You’ll hurt her.”

“What?” Edward growls. “How dare you? Unlike Lee, I would never lay a hand on -”

Leslie puts up a hand. “No, it’s not that. It's just, The Doc knows you're angry because she’s done something and  -”

“I’ll say.”

“Let her through,” Edward says firmly. “I need to talk to her. To all of you, really. But her the most. Can you do that for me, Leslie?”

“Fine,” Leslie says, rolling her eyes. Then she says to The Doc, “You’d better not drink while you’re out.”

“Agreed,” Edward says.

“She’s been getting stronger,” Leslie warns him. “Take care of her.”

What does that mean?

As soon as The Doc takes over, Edward’s previously hot fury towards her turns cold . . . and eerily calm.

“Hey there,” she says in a slur, trying to be sultry.

“Not going to work, Doc,” Edward replies and gets to the point. “Did you know Dini’s mother was an alcoholic?”

“No,” The Doc says, the light in her eyes deadening as she sits down in one of the soft coral-colored chairs that they’ve placed near the window on the landing.  She brings a hands to her forehead. The window faces the sea. Behind it, over the railing, one can see parts of the first floor. It’s usually a cozy place, but today it is most certainly not. Edward takes the chair opposite her.

“Not only did she abuse that little girl horribly, she  neglected her. Her mother was known to pass out from drink often, which terrified Dini - she thought she was going to die.  And that woman went on days-long benders. Dini had to fend for herself, Doc. Just like you did after your mother died.”

Water fills The Doc’s eyes, and she looks around, probably searching for the drink that Leslie had the foresight to hide from her.

“But Dini was only three, four, five at the time. She wasn’t ten - like you. ”

“I should slap you right now.”

“What?” 

“But I’m not Lee,” The Doc continues with a jagged, mean-spirited laugh. “I’ll leave it up to her to stoke that fear of yours.”

His anger is back in a white hot flash as he realizes that The Doc isn’t who he had thought she was if she could so easily taunt him about something like that. He had truly believed that _she_ was the one who had understood him best. Now he can only sit there in silence, shaking with rage and betrayal.

“Why are you so afraid, Edward? I couldn’t harm you, Lee couldn’t harm you. Leslie certainly wouldn’t even try. What happened to you?”

“Never mind me,” Edward growls, standing up from his chair and pointing down at her sternly. “You hurt that little girl. You scared _her_ today. And for what? A cup of solace?”

“Fuck you, Edward.”

“No, Fuck you, Doc,” Edward yells. “Dini was a baby when this all started. Helpless. Left to starve. Sick. She has NO memory of a sober mother. None. How could you do that to her today?"

Tears begin to flow down The Doc’s face. He’d finally gotten to her. Clumsily she wipes at them. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because you’ve gotta stop drinking!” Edward yells. “For her.”

“I can’t.”

“Try,” Edward says gravely and walks to the stairs. Before he starts down them, he turns back to her and says, “You still want another child. You ALL do, even Leslie. I can tell by the way you interact with that little girl.”

“I think you’re projecting.”

“Am I?”

“YOU are the one who wants another child. You haven’t lost two others like I have!” The Doc practically screams. “And I can’t go through that again. None of us can. Just remember, Edward, Dini came to **us**. She showed up on our doorstep uninvited - we didn’t seek her out.”

“Uninvited?” Edward remembers it quite differently. They had wanted her to spend that first night with them so they could observe her in case anything went wrong with her insulin pump.

“A child can’t heal us, Edward,” The Doc says, deflating into her chair and turning away from him.

“Are you sure about that?” he asks.

“Yes.” Her eyes are dead as she turns to look at him one last time.

* * *

Edward has no reason to go to Driftwood Island anymore since rehearsals for _Paradise Lost_ have been postponed. So he stays home and works on forgeries for Oswald instead.

“Oh, Foxy, I’m going to get you good.”

Edward grins wickedly, delighted with himself. He had concocted a masterfully convoluted goose chase, whereby Lucius Fox would know that Edward was behind the massive transfer of Wayne Properties to Oswald – he just wouldn’t be able to prove it. It would look like a maze of other people were involved – the clues would never lead back to him. He could easily outwit the Fox and keep Oswald happy – and drowning in excess wealth. It was never a bad thing to be in that cantankerous man’s good graces. How William had managed to stay there all this time confounded him. Edward kept expecting some kind of rift to form between them, like it had between him and Oswald shortly after he stared as his Chief of Staff a couple of years back, but it never did.

A call comes in for him, but he ignores it. He’s not at a stopping place.

And then it rings again. Agitated he picks up. “Yes.”

“Is this Mr. Edward Nygma?”

“Yes, it is me, the infamous Riddler!” Edward makes a little flourish that no one else can see. But then . . . “Wait. Who is this?”

“Sir, I’m sorry to inform you, but your wife –“

“Excuse me?”

He can hear her protest in the background. “Hey, I told you that I was his mistress!”

“Your WIFE,” says the man on the other line, correcting her in error. “Has been admitted to the hospital.”

“What?” The forgeries are forgotten.

Edward’s heart sinks at the man’s next words.

“For alcohol poisoning. We almost lost her.”


	23. Chapter 23

"I don't know why you are so hell-bent on drinking yourself to death," Edward says in frustration, after striding into The Doc's hospital room and taking a seat.

How in the world did she get like this? He knows Leslie hadn’t wanted this to escalate to alcohol poisoning. How come she hadn’t been able to take back control of her body sooner? 

_She’s getting stronger. Take care of her._

And then it hits him. She no longer had control of The Doc. At all. That's what Leslie had meant. Dammit.

"Why are you doing this to yourself, Doc?” he asks the shell of a woman recovering on the hospital bed. She looks like she's just been through hell and back.

The Doc just shrugs and looks away. Then she mutters, “It’s sad you don’t know the answer to that one. Aren’t you supposed to be the brightest man in all of The South _and_ Gotham?”

Edward decides to let that slide. “I love you, Doc. Why isn’t that enough for you?”

She doesn't look at him, despite his impassioned plea. He’d been supportive and not made any more assumptions about her ability to handle things - or not. Yet still, everything had gone to hell since their return from Gotham. He doesn’t know what more he can do for her. This timing . . .

“Why now, Doc? Dini was just coming back -”

“Because you slept with Lee.” The Doc spits it out like an accusation, a nasty tone in her voice.

So that’s what this is about? Jealousy? Unbelievable. What’s next? Had he ever been this unreasonable when he was split? 

Edward stands up with his hat in his hand, suddenly coming to a decision. He can't do this anymore. He thought they had all loved him at one point, and he them, but -

“I think it's over, Lee,” he says, looking down, meaning all three of them.

“What?” The Doc exclaims, shocked, pushing herself further up in her hospital bed. “But you said -”

“That I’d never leave you?” Edward asks, and then answers himself before she can. “True. But we agreed that we would stick it out together no matter how hard it gets, just so as long as there’s love between us. Not abuse. I believe it was you who brought that up. I’m not obligated to stay around for that.”

“But -”

“Look, Lee’s come close to crossing that line already. Perhaps too close. I’m not sure why we even made love that night. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You weren’t thinking, Edward. You were feeling.”

“Fine,” He concedes the point with a small nod. “But as far as you and me are concerned, Doc, we’ve been close. Very close.” 

Her face brightens a bit as she looks up and nods. 

“But you’re out of control,” he continues roughly, dashing what tenuous hope she had. “I can’t believe what you have just done to Dini. That poor little girl.”

“I -”

Edward interrupts her. “You’ve hurt her and you’ve hurt _me_.”

“How could I have possibly hurt _you_ , Edward? It was just a little drink.”

He doesn’t answer, he just clenches his jaw in silent fury. It hurts because he feels an obligation to protect that sweet innocent child - like any father would. He cares for Dini too much to see her traumatized like that. How can The Doc be so soundly missing that point? 

“I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you, Doc.”

All she does is answer him with silence. And a frown.

That’s it. 

“It’s over until you’re sober,” he says pointing his index finger at her, shaking with barely contained rage. 

The Doc gulps and nods in acceptance, looking back down.

He needs to say more, but the words get stuck in his throat and his Adam’s apple bobs. But eventually they find their way through. “You’ve broken my heart, Doc. Driving that girl away when we were so close to having her back . . .”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“You’d better be.”

Edward stalks out the door, his mind a mess, trying to process what had just happened. But he knows with clarity that he will not be like his father - he refuses to be. He will not stay with a woman who’s hurt the child he loves and has no intentions of changing her ways. Nor will he allow himself to stay with someone who has within them the capacity to fly off the handle and haul off and hit him. He just can’t.

Walking down the corridor, he remembers the shame and sting of Lee's punch from the day she socked him in the face, angry with him for killing Kristin Kringle and ruining her life. And he sees his father’s bloodied face, his mother’s red claw marks puffing up in streaks upon it. He stops walking and closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath to banish the sight.

He decides to return home and not wait for The Doc - or whoever will be around - to be discharged. 

She can find her own way home. He’s done.

* * *

When Edward arrives back at the house in Beachview he notices a benign looking package sitting on the porch. He removes the card without picking it up.

_Your Majesties ;-)_

_Dini’s bathing suit is finished! I know you two had wanted to give it to her as a special present, so I’m leaving it here for you for when the time is right. Have faith and be patient. She’ll come back. She loves both of you very much._

_Your humble Narrows subject (LOL),  
_

_Jean_

Edward walks upstairs to place the package and card down on the bed in Kristen’s room, noticing a faint trail of fluff arranged like breadcrumbs leading from the edge of the bed, out the door, and to the top of the staircase. Checking the bed once more, he notices that Pokey Bear is missing and a bittersweet smile graces his lips.

He and The Doc had never quite finished patching up Pokey Bear before bringing him back home to Beachview.

* * *

Leslie bursts into the guest bedroom to find Edward lying on the bed. She’s shocked but relieved to see him. He watches her as she carefully takes in all of the stuff he's set about the room. His stuff.

“I thought you were leaving.”

“I am . . . and I’m not,” he says casually.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, make no mistake about it, I’m leaving YOU,” All of them. He sits up in bed. “But I’ve decided to stay here in Beachview.”

Leslie looks confused, so he spells it out for her.

“We’re not in a relationship anymore. Any of us. None of you can have me.” He pauses for a second, realizing that he never thought he’d be the one to end it . . . He always thought he was the one who would let her down in some way - or that she’d finally realize that he’d never been good enough for her in the first place. But now . . .

“But why -?”

“Look, Leslie.” Tears are forming in her eyes. This situation could prove to be difficult. “The Doc is non-functional at this point and is turning nastier with each passing day due to her little habit. And Lee -” He stops, bringing a hand to his chest. This line of conversation could end up touching the heart of the matter.

“What, Edward? Just say it.”

“Fine. I just never realized how mean and cruel you all are - I never saw you that way before - not even when you stabbed me in The Narrows. I’ve been so blind,” he says, shaking his head. His heart aches just putting it into words and he fights the urge to clench his fingers, still lying against his breastbone.

“Mean and cruel?” Leslie scoffs. “Just how many people have _you_ tortured, 'Mister Riddler'? How many people have you tormented with horrific mind games with before you dispatched of them, huh? You’re the villain, Edward. _You’re_ the one that’s cruel at your core. Even Dini can see that, so don’t you dare deny it! Deep down you know it’s not just The Doc’s behavior that drove her away. You had a part in it, too.”

“I could _never_ be so cruel to someone I loved,” Edward says defensively, his chest heaving. I'm not Oswald.

“Oh, so is that why you’re sticking around then?” Leslie asks smugly as she heads for the door. “'As long as there's still love between us' . . .”

“Get out.”

Edward feels outsmarted somehow. It’s not a comfortable place to be. 

But had she really called his bluff? Does he still love them? At all?

That night he notices her sneaking out - it’s a pattern that repeats itself almost every night. Normally, her whereabouts would pique his interest - he’d follow her to the ends of the earth to solve the mystery of where she was going each night, she’s been so secretive. But he finds he isn’t even remotely interested. 

He just doesn’t care anymore.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday! Here's an early (and extra) little treat. A second chapter will post this week - I'm aiming for Thursday as per usual. Enjoy!

Life hadn’t been a lot of fun ignoring Lee these past couple of months, but Edward’s been getting by. Sometimes he finds himself watching her sleep after she returns from wherever it is she’s been disappearing lately. But he doesn’t know which one he’s looking at as he sits by her bed and finds it to be disconcerting.

One day after checking some finishing touches that he’d added to various city hall documents for Oswald, Edward arranges the dry ones in a stack. A few are still left hanging on a line in his office, attached by wooden clothespins. He hums a little tune as he drums his fingers on his chin, wondering if Oswald could satisfy Jim Gordon’s recent curiosity with just the dry ones. Oswald had been getting antsy ever since the commissioner had demanded proof that he actually owned of some properties that he’d moved his various enterprises into - properties that Jim knew full-well rightfully belonged to Bruce Wayne among others. Oswald hadn’t waited for Edward to finish the property deed forgeries in those cases - work that always took precision, time and care to produce excellence. No, impatient as ever, he’d just moved right in. So now Jim’s waiting like a wolf at Penguin’s door for him to produce the deeds. Time is of the essence - he can only stall him so much longer.

“Oswald you brought this onto yourself,” Edward grumbles, talking to no one, as he makes a decision to only pack up the dry ones and not wait for the others to be ready.  “You can make do with these for now.”

The house is quiet when Edward leaves for BioTech Bay and the golden car William had sent. Lee or The Doc is probably still on Driftwood Island, tending to the children, given the time of day. He locks the door behind him and gets behind the wheel of her all-too-hot car instead of driving his own. He’d been taking liberties like that lately, but she had yet to confront him about it.

After depositing the property deeds and other documents into a secure safe within the empty car that William had sent, and sending it back, Edward heads back to the parking lot of Deque Discovery. He’s not yet back to his car when he is startled to hear **_her_** voice around the corner. 

“I’ve already TOLD you, Dr. Ewing, the toxin works as described and is stable as far north as Gotham. It doesn’t need to be fresh like the stuff everyone down here is chewing for weight loss.You can review the data presented in my paper on systemic deque toxins for the specifics. I shouldn’t have to explain it to you any further.”

It is a nasty, gnarling voice. It twists Edward up inside and he freezes, closing his eyes. A painful memory comes to him, unbidden. He is once again in that vestibule, just a little boy. Against his face, he can feel the air that is displaced by the quick swish of her plaid skirt as he sees it disappear just out of reach of his pleading hands.

“I doesn’t matter if my data is over twenty years old, the extracted toxin’s properties won’t have just ‘magically’ changed over time, Ewing. My data stands.” She huffs. “Look, who’s running the Toxin Division, here, huh? Me or you?”

She must be on the phone, because Edward doesn’t hear a reply, but he’s not sure he would have been able to over his own gasps of fright. And he’s suddenly gotten so lightheaded that it feels like he’s going to hit the ground any second. What is he going to do when she rounds the corner and sees him? He can’t move.

“That’s right, Ewing. I can’t believe you dare question my authority.”

Edward can hear the fast click-clack of her heels on the pavement as she picks up her pace and starts to briskly head his way. His heart rate escalates and intensifies to the point that he can feel it pulse in his throat. The potential of being caught usually thrills him, but not this time. This time it is terrifying.

“Eliza!” someone calls out.

“What!?” Edward can hear her screech impatiently. “Can’t you see I’m on a very important phone call?”

There’s a muffled ‘sorry’ and a ‘thank you,’ and then her walking resumes. Edward is able to make it into the passenger seat of Lee’s car – he had become unfrozen for just a moment while she had been distracted. Once settled, he puts on his hat and pulls the brim down, waiting with dread for when he’ll catch a glimpse of the woman he hasn’t seen since she’d left him behind at that facility, sick, terrified, and alone. His mother.

Edward’s alarmingly uneven breathing resumes as he hears her sharp heels get closer. He tilts his head back a bit and underneath the brim of his hat, he notices that her heels are red - an exact match to the color of this car. But he’s not ready to look at any more of her. He closes his eyes.

“We need in vivo studies to prove its geographical stability?” he hears her ask the person on the other line, mild shock apparent in her voice. Edward can just imagine her raising one of her eyebrows. “Are you sure about that? This toxin can’t be tested on animals for efficacy. None are analog -”

Edward dares to take a more comprehensive look at her in the brief silence that follows. He peeks under the brim of his hat once more and sees that she’s a bit further away from him than he had originally thought - she has a voice that easily carries. He can only see her fierce profile, but he notices that she looks exactly the same. Well . . . except for a bold white streak or two that have found their way into the soft auburn waves of her hair.

“Well Dr. Ewing, you should know that in vivo studies aren’t a problem.” She raises her chin with pride. “It just so happens that I tested it on my son years ago in Gotham. I’ve got the data.”

After a short pause, she says, “Yes. I left him in a facility to die. Never saw him again.”

**WHAT?**

The world turns as Edward slumps forward in a dead faint.

 


	25. Chapter 25

Leslie comes home to find Edward slumped on the floor of his office, his hair askew, his glasses - 

What’s that on his chin?

“Please?” he asks pathetically, holding out a beaten and battered folder. He sounds like a little boy. He sounds like more like Eddie than Edward.

Leslie can’t remember the last time they’d spoken. She crouches down to his level and takes the folder from his hands. Upon closer inspection, she can see - and smell that it’s vomit on his chin. “What happened to you?”

“Please, I need a doctor,” he replies, indicating the folder with his eyes.

“I think you need more than that, Eddie,” Leslie says, standing up and handing the folder back to him. “Stay here.”

When she returns, it’s with a warm cloth to wipe down his chin and the front of his shirt. Then she combs through his hair with her fingers and straightens his glasses. When she’s done and holds out her hand for the folder again, he flinches.

“Oh my god,” she says with frustration, retracting her hand.

“What?” he asks meekly, drawing his knees in a little.

“No, it’s not you, Eddie,” she says softly and then sighs. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just having trouble understanding why you are like this. I know it’s not just what happened with Lee – you know I’m not her so we’re beyond that now.”

“Huh?”

“I want to help you so that you can get past this.” Leslie’s eyes narrow. “Tell me who in the hell did this to you? I’ll kill the bitch myself.”

He just looks at down at the folder.  

“Who hurt you, Eddie?” Leslie asks him gently once gain. “You know you can talk to me.”

“I need a doctor.”

Leslie sighs, acquiescing. “Of course, Eddie. Anything for you.”

“Are you a doctor, though? I know you’re all grown up now, but . . .”

“I’m not sure. Maybe? But Lee and The Doc have more experience than I do, regardless. Do you mind if we all take a look?”  

“No, go ahead.”

He hands over his medical file and they sit in silence for a while as Leslie reviews it, not saying a word about how shocked she is to learn he’d spent the vast majority of his youth in a facility for sick children. One she’d never even heard of. Eddie had told her that he’d been sick as a kid, but she had no idea the extent of it, just how many years he’d spent in that place.

For his part, Edward bears the silence between them with his head tilted up, fighting the occasional tear, fighting off the memories.

“Come here,” Leslie says at one point, indicating her lap, and, taking off his glasses he puts his head into it. She idly strokes his hair from time to time. “I can’t make heads or tails of this, Eddie. I get the impression your doctors had no idea what was wrong with you. Lots of diagnostics were done . . . but there were no diagnoses.”

Edward gulps and nods. Sounds about right. But . . .

He rotates his head in order to look up at her. “Are you sure they weren’t collecting data on me? Do you see any secret codes in the margins or anything? Something only doctors would know. Because I couldn’t find a pattern or anything, but perhaps I don’t kn -”

“Secret codes?”

Edward sits up and nods, putting his glasses back on.

“Aren’t we being a bit paranoid, Eddie?”

He doesn’t answer her directly. If there aren’t any secret notes within his records indicating that he had still been under observation, there’s only one conclusion to make.

“She just left me there . . .” his voice trails off at the implication. His mother really had just left him there to die. Experiment over.

“Eddie, hey,” Leslie says to get his attention. “Who just left you where?”

He won’t answer that question. He can’t. Instead he just looks her dead in the eye. There’s a chill in his voice as he asks, “Was I poisoned?”

“What?” Leslie wonders how he’d come to that conclusion. Certainly not from a layman’s examination of his medical file. She skims through it briefly once more. “Well, unless it was a systemic toxin -”

_“A systemic toxin. . .”_

The world spins briefly and the floor comes up to meet him as yet once again, he passes out. But thankfully, like the dashboard, the floor isn’t too far away and almost no damage is done to his face, mostly because Leslie had caught him in time to minimize the impact.

* * *

Edward wakes up in bed with Leslie’s arm securely around him, holding him tight. He doesn’t remember making it back here - and Leslie couldn’t have dragged him there herself. He rolls over to face her, but she doesn’t wake up.

He remembers Dini telling her, “Don’t press, Doc Thopmkins. It’s his secret.”

His secret . . .

“His mother abandoned him.” The little girl continued, “But I’m good at keeping secrets, aren’t I, Mr. Nygma?”

Oh, no. Leslie had gotten too close. She’d found out about -

Wait. Had Dini really been there? No. That had just been a dream. An anxiety dream. But still, he really had let Leslie get dangerously close to the truth.

And then it hit him. Hard.

He had to sit up to be able to breathe at all.

HIS MOTHER HAD POISONED HIM

All these years, he’s wondered why he had been sick, if his illness would come back, if he would pass it on to his offspring. But now he knew the truth. And she was down here in The South. In BioTech Bay.

Edward is terrified but fascinated. He needs to learn more about this toxin - and that requires that he has another encounter his mother, if only to shadow her research, and it makes his heart race with fear.

What time is it?

Early. But still, it never hurts to get a head start when stalking someone. He pulls off the covers with one swift motion, amazingly still bwithout disturbing Leslie, and gets ready for the day. He finds that he needs to adjust his glasses with a repair kit to make them fit just right again. Landing on them twice in one day from a dead faint hasn't been good for them.

He leaves for BioTech Bay without realizing he has a shadow.

* * *

Edward sits in his car this time, not Lee’s, in the parking lot of Deque Discovery and bides his time, waiting for the sun to come up. And, early as she ever was in his youth, his mother arrives right when he expects her to – before anyone else. It’s barely dawn when he spies her. Tall, willowy, smug smile and all.

Any carefully laid plans he had made are thrown to the wind as soon as he sees that smile. Suddenly, blind rage is the order of the day.

Without missing a beat, he finds himself standing against a damp cement wall, lying in wait to ambush her as she rounds the corner to head in to work.

“Hello, mother.”

The icy coldness of his controlled tone effectively conceals his boiling fury as he grabs her by the neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, you're reading this right, I'm sans beta on this one, flying solo. Wish me luck. :-)


End file.
